Trials and Tribulations
by Janriel
Summary: [College AU; Thominewt; Explicit] Thomas gets involved with his best friends Minho and Newt and fails to realize just how insecure he is about it.
1. Part I

**Disclaimer:** _The Maze Runner [trilogy] belongs to James Dashner  
_

 **Title:** Trials and Tribulations  
 **Author:** Janriel  
 **Rating:** M for Mature  
 **Genre:** Romance, Drama, Friendship, Humor  
 **Pairings:** Thominewt (Thomas/Minho/Newt)  
 **Warnings:** Sexual Content in later chapters, College AU

-x-X-x-

 **This story is also posted (and further along) in AO3.  
**

-x-X-x

 _The story is out of order on Archive because I posted the side stories before I posted this one. Excuse the shitty summary and any mistakes found in this chapter.  
_

* * *

 _ **Part I**_

* * *

Thomas was a smart boy, he had to be in order to get into WCKD U, and smarter still to maintain his GPA for that full scholarship. He wouldn't have done it if it weren't for his best friends Minho and Newt. He'd planned to keep things simple after Glader High; take a year off from studying and busting his butt on term papers; do a little soul searching, find his purpose in life. Figure out what if college was something he wanted to do next. (Maybe bum around his house for the summer. He deserved it after busting ass for four years after all.)

But then, Newt had to go and get accepted into WCKED U, an Ivy League university paving way for the future thanks to their prestigious science department.

Thomas was fine with it. Happy even. Newt had done nothing but bust his ass to get into the renowned school; the acceptance letter had just been a sweet victory.

When Minho had gotten accepted—thanks to his athletic prowess –Thomas was floored. He had wanted to take a break from the stresses of school, but with his two best friends moving to college in the fall, Thomas realized being left alone for a year was no longer an option. Not unless he wanted to be alone, bored out of his freaking mind, while his buddies have fun without him.

So he did the next best thing—he studied until his brain turned to goo, begged a few high school teachers for glowing letters of recommendations and churned out a heart wrenching, award winning, most bullshit worthy entrance essay with outstanding exam scores and hoped to whatever God that watched him it was enough to get in.

Luckily for him, it was.

Now, two semesters and one summer later, Thomas stood in the dormitory that will become their living space for the course of the year.

It was comfortably large—bigger than the two person dorms that was common place for the campus and certainly much more spacious than the single bed dorm Thomas had been stuck into the last two semesters. They had a kitchenette off to the right with cabinets for storage and a working sink. A small refrigerator stood to the side, positioned underneath counters with a black casing that showed their reflection and the words WCKD U painted in yellow.

The small hallway led Thomas down to the main room—their only room honestly—where a single twin bed stood off to the left, pressed against a barren wall and a bunk bed stood to the right. A computer desk sat in between the beds, barren of junk and a chair tucked underneath. A dresser stood to Thomas's right. To his left, by the single bed, was a wall length mirror attached to the closet door. Another empty dark wooden stand stood behind him—the perfect place for their TV and gaming systems.

The walls were a dull perfect white; the carpet, a standard brown, clean of filth and hair. But not for long.

Thomas grinned.

"This is great! We finally get to be roommates after all this time."

"Yeah, bloody great that is," Newt grunted. He dropped a pile of bags onto the single bed and released a sigh of relief. He whirled on Thomas, expression set in a glare. "Are you gonna gawk there all day or are you going to help me move everything in?"

"I'll help," He murmured sheepishly, though he eyed the empty beds again. He wondered where they would sleep.

Newt's brows furrowed again. "Minho's going to need help bringing the TV in."

"You think that shuck face's gonna try to get cable again?"

"Who you calling a shuck face, shuck face?"

Thomas and Newt turned toward the door in surprise. Minho popped in with a grin, wheeling their flat screen TV into the room by trolley. He nudged Thomas playfully on the arm and gave Newt a wink. The blond rolled his eyes, but smiled in good humor.

"The TV's not for cable Thomas, it's for whooping you shanks in video games."

"You really think we're going to have time for games this semester?"

"We better!" Minho snorted. "Otherwise, I'm a have to kill myself. No way in hell they're gonna keep me from relaxing this time around."

"Did you bring the rest of the stuff in?" Newt asked, changing the subject.

Minho shook his head. "Nah, it's still out in the hall."

"I hope they didn't break the bloody microwave again." Newt grumbled, heading for the door. "Can't keep replacing that damn thing." He disappeared beyond the door, leaving Minho and Thomas behind. They exchanged partially amused glances.

"He's moody today."

"Not surprised." Minho shrugged. Thomas noted the way his dark eyes shifted into concern. "Last semester was rough on him, getting sick like that."

Thomas absently worried his lip. He remembered what that was like. Earlier on in the year, when the harsh winter months shifted into a reluctant spring, Newt came down with a nasty virus that rendered him immobile for nearly two months. That'd been hard on all of them.

"We should make it up to him. Let him know he's not alone this year."

Minho nodded. A smug grin wormed its way across his lips. "I'm thinking we should break in the dorm with a nice three-way. It's been a while since either of us let a load off anyway. Newt's already stressing, might as well make him feel good." The track star suddenly halted, a thought popping into mind. "Oh klunk, that's right. You haven't done it with us yet, have you?"

"Done what?" Newt asked, reappearing into the room.

He gingerly set down the microwave on the counter then leaned against it as he eyed the boys with an inquisitive look.

Thomas felt his face flare up in heat.

He still wasn't used to the idea of dating his best friends, it'd only been a few months since they made it official after all, and he most certainly wasn't used to the idea of their relationship being polyamorous either. He really wasn't sure how it was going to work.

Minho and Newt had been dating for over a year, but they were friends with benefits three months before that. Thomas was roped into the relationship fairly recently—start of the summer recent in fact. Before that, Thomas had only been in the usual monogamous relationships, and even then, they were rare and too far in-between. Since his addition, their dynamic barely changed. They went out together regardless if it was considered a date or not, and played games like they always did when it was just the three of them.

Minho was still short-tempered; Newt still scolded them and Thomas still got them in trouble at the most inappropriate times.

Signs of affection like kissing and caresses, the occasional heated gropes and lust filled eyes—those were new additions, and sometimes, Thomas was taken off guard. Yet he didn't mind. He quite liked their subtle addition. Sex on the other hand, that was a different matter entirely.

Minho laughed, the sound throaty and melodious in Thomas's ears.

"Sex, Newt! We haven't had sex with Thomas yet."

Newt's brows rose in a fine arch. "That's right, we haven't. How did we manage that?"

"Good question," The athlete grinned. "I was just telling him we should celebrate our new domestic life with a threesome. Classes don't start until Monday, so who's up for an all-nighter?"

"You won't last the whole night, Minho."

"Maybe not, but the idea's still nice."

"Good that," Newt nodded. He smirked a little impishly. "I'm in."

Thomas balked. "Are you serious? Ju-just like that?"

Their glance was subtle, he would've missed it had he not been looking directly at them. Nerves blossomed in his chest.

"Something wrong Tommy?"

"It just seems…" He struggled to find the word.

"Strange?" Newt supplied, one brow raised again.

Thomas shrugged. Strange didn't seem like the right word for it. Minho rested a hand on his shoulder, grabbing the younger boy's attention.

"Think about it Thomas. You've got until tonight to decide, otherwise you can watch us." He gave Newt a playful smile. "Anyway, I've gotta run. I have to meet up with the track coach. If I get out early, I'll help you shanks with whatever still needs to be unpacked."

With a tender squeeze and one last concealed look to Newt, Minho left the boys alone in the dorm.

Thomas stole a glance at the blond, surprised to find the older boy look straight back at him.

"What?"

Newt shook his head. "Come on. Help me get the dorm ready."

Thomas watched him for a moment, his brain still scrambled and his chest heavy with anxiety, but he followed the blond into the hall for the rest of their things.


	2. Part II

**Dislciamer:** _Maze Runner (c) James Dashner_ **  
**

 _Excuse any grammatical/spelling errors._

 _The TMR fandom is pretty dead on this website huh? Oh well, I'll still share it on here and AO3._

* * *

 ** _Part II_**

* * *

There wasn't much to unpack in terms of furniture and boxes. The real struggle came from sorting out their clothes and the amount of closet space they were given. Newt claimed the dresser as his own, his excusing being he had gotten their first. He meticulously folded his clothes into nice little squares that would make any clothing store associate jealous and placed them gingerly into the drawer.

Thomas set up a few collapsible cubicles on each side of the closet, a part of him disappointed with having to share with Minho of all people. He could be neat all he wanted, but he couldn't fool himself. Their closet would be a war zone in only a few weeks' time, he was sure.

By the time he was done setting up the closet and had most of his clothes hanging, Newt was already sorting out Minho's clothes in categories: sleepwear, daywear, socks and tighty whities. The brunet couldn't help but snicker.

He always knew his boyfriend was a neat freak. It wasn't quite on the level of being unbearable, at least he hoped it wouldn't be, but he never knew it extended to their own items too.

"He's just going to mess it up, you know."

Newt shrugged. He carefully folded white briefs into the underwear pile. "It keeps me calm."

Thomas frowned, concerned again. "What are you nervous about, Newt?"

The new school year had barely even started. What could already have gotten the blond boy worried so soon?

"Nothin' really," he muttered. He folded another pair of boxers and set them down on top of another pile. "Mostly thinking about what you said earlier. Or what you didn't say." Newt set the last piece of clothing down and turned to Thomas, eyes swimming in worry. "We never got a chance to talk about it during the summer—what with you and Minho helping me get my life back together after the hospital—and then there was preparing for school again, but now there's nothing keeping us distracted. I just wanted to let you know, if you have a problem Tommy, you can always talk to me about it. And I mean, a problem with _us_ , this relationship. You, me and Minho. It's new to you, hell, it's new to _us_ , but we care about you and we want you to be happy. So if there's anything, don't be afraid to ask." Newt's expression was hopeful and pleading. Thomas didn't have the heart to open his mouth.

He didn't have a problem. Not truly. He only had questions, a lot of them, but he felt stupid thinking about it let alone asking them.

Thomas shook his head. He gave Newt an appreciative smile and said, "Thanks for the offer Newt, but I'll be alright. You guys just keep doing what you normally do. If something bothers me, I'll let you know."

Newt didn't seem satisfied with that response. He appeared to want to fight it and Thomas would let him, but to his surprise, Newt dropped the subject. He turned back to the newly folded clothes and set out to put them away on Minho's behalf, even if that meant some of his daywear clothes had to be unfolded for the hanger.

Thomas chose to set up their game system in the meanwhile.

* * *

WCKD U. was a beautiful place when you got over the towering sterile white building and the golden plated lettering adorned as a beacon on the highest building. It was a surprisingly large campus despite the small gathering of students that were smart enough or rich enough to get in, yet it was breathtaking all the same.

Thomas didn't care too much for the place.

It'd been Newt who wanted so desperately to come here. He and Minho had merely followed for the blond.

With their dorm set up for the semester—and Newt busying himself with grabbing their schedules—Thomas found himself wandering the campus in boredom. He saw a few familiar faces along the way. Teresa Agnes from his literature class last semester, as well as long lost childhood friend, waved as she and Rachel, her roommate he supposed, carried a box up the stairs to their two-person dorm.

He caught sight of Ben, a former track member he had met through Minho, speaking with Gally, an asshole Thomas had hoped flunked out last semester. (He didn't of course, because Thomas wasn't _that_ lucky.) They paid him no mind and Thomas was perfectly fine with that. He liked Ben, didn't have a problem with the guy, but Gally was a thorn on his side and the worst rival he had the displeasure of knowing. They became rivals the moment they bumped heads in science last autumn and ever since then, they'd done nothing but discreetly sabotage each other in the hopes of gaining the better hand. (Newt didn't approve, but Minho thought it was the funniest thing he had ever seen.)

He hoped he didn't have another class with Gally this semester. Seeing him _again_ after two semesters in a row was enough to last him a lifetime.

He made his way past the boys, internally hoping neither one of them would acknowledge him. No such luck. Gally spared him a glance, barely a flicker of contact—Thomas thought he might have imagined it—but the older boy resumed his conversation with Ben as though Thomas didn't even exist.

How wonderful.

He continued on his way, straining his ears as he went. He wouldn't put it past Gally to come after him once Ben was out of sight. The further along he went, the less he heard. Gally must not have cared enough today. Too early in the semester then? He wasn't aware they had a set time for the rivalry to begin. Huh.

He could deal with that.

On his walk, he caught sight of Alby and Aris. He waved to Sonya and even helped Harriett carry her bags up the stairs into their building. He didn't linger too long on familiar faces, didn't really feel inclined to talk to anyone that wasn't Newt or Minho.

He stopped in front of the gates to the track pit and peaked down the slope to catch sight of the members lounging around in their daywear clothes as Coach Jorge spoke to the boys and girls, his hands animated in a wild display of _something_ and his mouth moving a mile a minute. Thomas was too far to hear what he had to say, but he imagined it must have been words of encouragement, reminders to eat healthy and the punishment they would receive if any of them got sick before the tournaments started.

He caught sight of Minho lounging casually on the sidelines, head drawn back in a laugh with another teammate. He looked so relaxed in that environment, like the world couldn't get to him. And maybe it couldn't. Minho had always said running was his way of escaping the troubles of the real world.

Newt cleaned.

Minho ran.

Thomas? Well, he brooded.

The group below began to move. Thomas snapped out of his thoughts in time to catch the runners head his way. He stepped aside as the gate opened and smiled at the familiar and unfamiliar faces that greeted him. Minho wrapped an arm around his shoulder before he could react and planted a quick yet tender kiss against his temple. Heat seared across his neck and cheeks. He ducked, embarrassed, and hoped none of the others had seen what Minho had done. The athlete snickered. He held him close despite Thomas's embarrassment.

"Did you make up your mind yet?" He asked, steering Thomas away from the pit. He waved to a couple of his friends as they walked.

"What?"

Minho rolled his eyes. "About tonight, shuck face. Did you already forget?"

The heat intensified. He fidgeted.

"Uh… I'm… still thinking." He muttered. "But, um, Newt and I finished with the dorm after you abandoned us." He hoped Minho wouldn't see the change of topic. He didn't want to chance looking up at him just to know.

He heard the subtle exhale; could almost feel the disappointment radiating from the track captain. It made the shame bubble again and his face burn red. He felt guilty. He didn't want to disappoint Minho.

"I didn't abandon you guys, I had track stuff. I'm captain of the team slinthead, I've got a responsibility to my teammates, ya know."

His tone was playful despite the disappointment. It made Thomas feel all the more guilty.

"Yeah, yeah," He tried to grin. "That's just an excuse for you to get out of physical labor."

Minho's laugh came as a deep chortle. He pulled Thomas in close, arms wrapped around his smaller frame. Heat radiated from his skin again, his mind spiraling into a panic at the idea of how they must look like in the public eye. He wiggled against Minho's grip, but that only made the athlete hug him tighter, another laugh rumbling his chest. He buried his nose into the crook between Thomas's neck and shoulder and planted another soft kiss against the flesh.

"Hey," He murmured, "If you're not comfortable with sex tonight, we can always do something a little lighter."

"You guys have been doing it without me for a year. Don't change on my account."

Minho pulled away then, dark eyes peering into his.

"You're not getting this at all."

Thomas frowned. He felt like an idiot again and he hated it. Minho tipped his chin upwards, having broken their eye contact in his moment of self-loathing.

"Come on Thomas, use that shucking brain of yours. You're our best friend and now our boyfriend. I get that's probably shucking weird for you, being in a relationship like this, but it only means Newt and I care for you deeper than most people would. So yeah, things are gonna change for us. It's not going to be just me and Newt anymore, but to be honest, it never really was. It was always the three of us. Newt wants you. I want you. We love you. We care for you. So tell me truthfully right now, no vague answers. No lies. Do you want to do something with us tonight?"

Thomas hesitated.

Sex wasn't the issue. He might not have had it, but he understood the mechanics behind it and the necessity for it. He was sure sex with a guy was no different than sex with a girl, give or take a few things. It was just… Minho and Newt were his best friends since freshman year in high school. Not just that, he wasn't comfortable with the idea of having one of them watching. How were they all going to get involved? Wasn't there a thing about tops and bottoms? Would they have to take turns? Wouldn't someone get left out if they didn't want to bottom? And what about condoms? They'd need to wear some, wouldn't they? Should he tell them he was allergic to certain brands? And the lube? Oh god, he was allergic to certain lube brands too!

Shit. Why didn't he think about doing research beforehand?!

Minho sighed. The silence between them disconcerting.

"Like I said, we can start off slow."

Thomas snapped out of his thoughts. "H-how?" He felt stupid again asking such a dumb question, Minho seemed thoughtful, almond shaped dark eyes staring off into the distance.

"Hmm, I'm thinking we can start off with hand jobs, maybe a BJ if anyone's adventurous. Does that sound better?"

"I can do that." He nodded.

"Good that," Minho grinned. He planted a chaste kiss against Thomas lips before the boy could protest and grabbed his hand. "Let's go tell Newt the news."

* * *

 _Please review, favorite or alert if you like the story!_

 _Otherwise you'll miss the updates. Kek._


	3. Part III

**Disclaimer:** The Maze Runner (c) James Dashner

 _Wow, this fandom is pretty dead on FF. Now that Part 3 is up, updates are going to be slower in progress since it's officially caught up with AO3, but unlike AO3, I'm going to stick up the side stories together with this thing too._

 **Warning(s):** Sexual content near the end. (It's not too explicit though for reasons that will become apparent)

* * *

 ** _Part III_**

* * *

Newt was on the lonesome twin bed against the wall, nursing a cup of jo' in one hand while checking the school schedule in the other, when his boyfriends returned to the dorm. He gave them a welcoming smile and gestured to a couple of mugs on the counter, already steaming in wait.

"Just made it. I figured you'd want some. There are cookies here too." He gestured to a container filled with chocolate chip cookies on the desk beside the bed. "A gift for Thomas, apparently."

Minho arched an eyebrow at the brunet.

Thomas rolled his eyes, familiar with the look. "Must have been from Teresa or Harriet. I saw them earlier on my walk."

"Tommy has many secret admirers." Newt laughed, though it didn't sound as genuine as it should have been. If anything, it sounded bitter. Minho, on the other hand, looked mildly annoyed. Almost as though he was unhappy for some inexplicable reason. Something warm and fuzzy wormed its way into Thomas's chest at the look on their expressions. Were they jealous?

He shut down his brain before it could spiral out of control. He grabbed a mug from the counter and joined Newt on the bed, slipping in with relative ease. He plucked a couple of cookies from the plastic container and gave Newt an appreciate smile.

"Thanks for the hot coco," He leaned his head against Newt's shoulder comfortably, mindful of their hot drinks. "It's a bit off season for hot coco though."

"Don't be silly. It's never off season for hot coco."

Minho joined them on the bed, his own mug in hand. He sat near the end by their drawn up legs, dark brown eyes falling on the sheet of paper in Newt's hand.

"Whaddya readin'?" He asked through a mouthful of cookie.

Newt scoffed in repulsion. "Swallow before you speak, Min. That's bloody disgusting. And this is my schedule for this semester. I picked up everyone's."

"I know my schedule." He countered. "Lots of klunk classes and track until my knees give out."

"What about you, Tommy?"

Thomas shrugged. He took a drink from his cup, savoring the sweetness of melted marshmallows and the slight bitterness of chocolate on his tongue.

"I think I can remember it."

Newt nodded in response, his face set in a slight frown.

Minho chugged the remainder of his hot chocolate and set the mug on the floor, much to Newt's distaste.

"So!" He began, patting his knees in excitement. "You shanks ready for some quality bonding?" He flashed them a grin, pearly white and positively lecherous.

Thomas stiffened, his heart rate quickening. (He missed the way Newt turned to him, an inquisitive look in his eyes or the way Minho's expression sobered subtly.)

"We-we're just doing handjobs today, right? Like mutual masturbation?"

Minho's lecherous smile turned amused. "Yeah greenbean, we're taking it slow for ya."

"Don't call me that," Thomas sulked. His response only made the older boy smile more.

Newt turned to Minho then, silently questioning their change of plans.

"Oh yeah, Thomas looked uncomfortable with the threesome idea, so I told him we could take it slow for him. You don't mind right?"

He didn't. Thomas felt relieved. A part of him worried his inexperience would frustrate the duo, but so far, they'd been nothing but patient.

Minho crawled up the length of their legs, dark eyes flashing in delight as heat crawled up Thomas's neck again. He pressed himself against the cropping of pillows, watching with bated breath as Minho ascended toward him. A devious smirk crossed his handsome face then—one he shared with Newt briefly—before capturing Thomas's lips with his own. He craned his neck into Minho's kiss, the taller boy cupping his face. He felt his face burn as he exposed the creamy flesh of his neck for Newt to mar with loving, tender kisses.

Thomas whimpered, their touches intoxicating. Newt licked and nipped. Minho caressed and claimed.

They switched suddenly; Newt claiming his lips and Minho planting kisses down his neck. He pulled Newt closer to deepen the kiss, using his tongue in an effort to claim the blond's mouth, but Minho's ministrations against his flesh weakened his determination. He felt the blond's smile against his lips, a small chuckle close behind.

They traded again, this time leaving Thomas to lock lips with each other. He watched them, feeling breathless and aroused. He was terribly hot and anxious to relieve his inflamed body, but he didn't dare to move as they kissed; wasn't even sure if they wanted him to do anything at this moment. He felt inclined to join them, wanted to suck on Newt's pale flesh while Minho dominated his mouth or bite onto the athlete's jugular while Newt nibbled on his bottom lip.

Thoughts on how their relationship would work started pouring into his mind.

They could take turns, it seemed. They would try to fulfill each other's needs; take into consideration what each of them wanted. If they felt awkward or uncomfortable, they could talk it out. Newt and Minho seemed patient enough with him that taking it slow wouldn't be a problem for them, right?

Thomas barely registered Newt's naked torso, broad and smooth, in front of his face. He didn't notice Minho stripping off his shirt, showing off his tanned, built abs from years of sports and exercise. And he sure as hell didn't register his own shirt flying off until it flopped to ground in a messy heap with theirs. They were on him again, peppering his bare torso with soft kisses and light nips.

Minho reached for the zipper on his jeans, the loud ZIP of his pants being undone derailed the brunet's thoughts harshly. He jerked upwards, nearly head-butting into Newt's body and startling the duo.

"Wait! _Wait,_ " He blushed, taking in their half-naked forms for the first time. "We-we're just going to do it on Newt's bed? It's not big enough, don't you think?"

"Shut off your brain for once, Thomas." Minho smirked, amused. "You're going to kill your own mood if you keep overthinking this."

"But—"

"The bed is fine, Tommy." Newt cut in, his voice soft as though he were cajoling a child. Thomas couldn't blame him, he felt unexpectedly skittish with Mino so close to his groin. "Minho's goin' to pleasure you first while you'll do me."

"Then who does Minho?"

"Preferably the both of you." The athlete grinned. He reached over and planted a kiss on Thomas's temple. "Now chill out, shut off your shucking brain and go with the flow."

Thomas opened his mouth to retort, but Newt's lips silenced his words before he could voice them. He moaned into the blond's mouth, the heat in the pit of his stomach reigniting. He forced his mind to focus on their treatment, the way Newt's tongue would flow into his mouth like a tide; how his long fingers caressed his jawline or tangled themselves in his chocolate brown hair. He felt the way Minho took off his jeans, how his nails accidentally scratched into his thighs and sent a spark of pain through his nerves. Another moan had escaped his throat then. The sharp, quick prick had silenced his thoughts, but now as Minho carefully tugged off his underwear, Thomas felt his anxiety return.

He wasn't sure what to do with his hands. He wanted to pull Newt in close, have his fingers roam across that startling body. He wanted to bury them into the older boy's golden locks or leave a fluttering trail of light touches all the way down to Newt's hardening length. He wanted to squeeze the boy's ass, maybe tug on Minho's hair. He wanted to do _something_ , but as it stood, his hands were frozen on Newt's hips, trembling with nerves and growing clammy with sweat.

His body jolted unexpectedly; something rough, yet warm and slick with a gel like substance wrapped around his half-hard erection. Lube. It must have been lube. Minho had the lube.

 _Oh god._

The thought of what kind of lube crossed his mind. He didn't get a chance to tell them about his allergies.

Newt pulled away suddenly, cheeks flushed and lips swollen from kissing. He planted another sweet kiss along the brunet's neck then turned back to Minho, brown eyes searching.

Minho glanced up from his work, tanned hand coated in lube, his grip tight around Thomas, but not unbearable. (In truth, Thomas felt it was too loose for his liking.) He silently questioned the blond's expression, face curious, but Newt merely shook his head and returned back to Thomas.

"Thomas needs more stimulation." Newt paused, surprised etched in his eyes. Thomas felt his toes clench in embarrassment, Minho's fingers stroking his half-hard length. "He's not fully erect here."

"I've got it."

Newt gazed into his dark brown eyes, looking as though he were searching for something. He leaned in close, his stare shifting toward Thomas's lips. They were kissing in seconds, more reverently than before. Minho hummed a response, but said nothing more.

Thomas tried to shut out his thoughts, but they were persistent. He hoped it wouldn't ruin their time together.

* * *

Humiliation kept him up for most of the night. Despite how hard they tried, Thomas couldn't climax and the embarrassment and disappointment that came after soured his mood beyond repair. His inability to perform halted their progress.

It shouldn't have.

Minho and Newt were well enough into the mood to keep going without him, but instead of continuing for their own release, they chose to stop on his behalf and forced their own arousal to slip away. They all curled together on Newt's bed that night, the humiliated brunet in-between them, still naked and bothered from their failed session. Minho was the first to succumb to sleep, but Newt lingered longer, watching him in the dark. Thomas felt the blond wanted to talk to him, perhaps ask him if he was okay. Maybe tell him he shouldn't feel bad. But Thomas did and he couldn't help it.

When Newt managed to drift off, Thomas stayed awake for hours thinking about what had gone wrong. He'd been so into it. Sure, he stuttered a bit; felt anxious and uncertain at certain points, but he'd been aroused. He was looking forward to the experience. He trusted Minho. He trusted Newt. What had happened?

It took him ages, but he had managed to fall asleep only to wake up a few hours later to the sound of birds chirping beyond their window and the light bustling of students out in the hall. He felt squished in-between their bodies, hot with the blankets drawn and hotter knowing they were stark naked underneath. Images from last night flashed into his mind and he felt the humiliation of disappointing them burn onto his cheeks again.

Suddenly, he felt uncomfortable lying there. Too hot. Too vulnerable.

He sat up hastily, disentangling himself from Minho's grip and shoved away the blanket. The cool air of the dorm felt nice against his heated skin and it relieved him of the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm his exhausted mind. Movement from his right caught his eye.

Newt stirred, his blond hair disheveled from sleep and his face screwed up in discomfort. He'd been pushed against the wall for most of the night, his left arm serving as a pillow while his right arm had been draped around Thomas. Now, as he struggled to sit up, Thomas figured his left arm had fallen asleep, cut from circulation for most of the night. He grumbled in annoyance, trying his best to flex the dead hand.

Minho rested precariously near the edge of the bed on his stomach. His legs were thrown out haphazardly—most of it were on Thomas's—while his left arm had laid across the brunet's chest; his right arm dangled off the bed and grazed the carpet below. He drooled onto the mattress, still dead to the world despite the movement.

How the three of them managed to fit onto the tiny twin bed was beyond him. They were lucky he hadn't really slept, otherwise he was certain Minho would have fallen to the floor by now.

Newt's yawn brought him out of his thoughts, and to his horror, he found he couldn't quite face the blond just yet. He climbed out of the bed with surprising ease and made for the closet for a fresh pair of clothes. He felt the boy's eyes as he dressed. He picked up his pace when he felt he was being naked for too long.

"Tommy—"

A loud _thump_ startled the duo into silence. Thomas whirled back to the bed in time to catch sight of a groggy, unhappy looking Minho sit up from the floor. He rubbed the side of his head, a streak of drool glistening at the corner of his lips.

"What the klunk Newt? I'm awake." He grumbled.

Newt rolled his eyes. "You fell off on your own, shank. No one told you to roll." He stared back at Thomas, grabbing the boy's full attention. "Tommy, we need to talk about last night—"

"I'm sorry," he interjected, feeling fidgety and uncomfortable under Newt and Minho's gaze. "I'll try harder next time. I got… my nerves distracted me."

"Maybe the three of us together was too much." Minho yawned. He climbed to his feet, showing off his toned, fit body with pride and joy. The embarrassment was back, but so too was the arousal.

Thomas looked away from Minho, annoyed with his body, but relieved. He was attracted to them at least. He was just… over thinking things.

"Let's try it individually and work our way to a group." Newt suggested when it looked like Minho was too sleepy to continue. "That way, you can get used to us at your own pace, Tommy."

"S-sounds good…"

He glanced up at the clock, noting the time. Today was the last day to get everything done before the start of the semester that Monday. With their dorm finally organized and their schedules set up for the year, there was only a few things left for them to do: shopping for food and their school supplies. As for Thomas, he needed to make sure his classes were correct.

* * *

 _I'm pretty sure I won't have to write a lot of warnings since so far this has been the only "explicit" thing written.  
_

 **Comments? Questions? Critics?**  
 **Please leave a review!**  
 **They make a writer very happy!**


	4. Part IV

**Disclaimer:** _The Maze Runner_ triology (c) James Dashner

 _Excuse the errors. Should also mention this story is probably going to be slow going, if that matters to you silent readers._

* * *

 _ **Part IV**_

* * *

He examined his schedule with a critical eye while Newt dragged the three of them around the bookstore in search of their supplies. Minho yawned behind them, grumbling about sleep deprivation and the musty scent of books, papers and writing utensils. Thomas ignored them as they walked.

His schedule wasn't nearly as packed as his boyfriends as he didn't have a definitive major. He and Minho were both Liberal Arts majors, yet with Minho's prowess in athleticism, his scheduled was packed with training sessions and special programs. Newt, on the other hand, is a medical student. It was no surprise to Thomas the blond's schedule was packed with classes. At least he had small study hall sessions sprinkled throughout the day. Compared to them, Thomas's classes were few and far between. He had more free time to rot in their dorm and, hopefully, have less stress to deal with now that none of them were dying from weird diseases or overwhelming themselves with classes way out of their leagues. (He hoped anyway. It was still too early to call.)

Worse yet, he knew his classes were easy. Despite his outstanding examination scores and WCKD U's insistence on advanced courses, Thomas chose to keep his life simple this semester. The likelihood of passing all his classes with barely any attendance was extremely high, and with Newt and Minho being busy out the ass, Thomas felt he could get away with his horrible attendance. Unless it was Professor Janson in which case skipping English was not an option and more like a death sentence.

"You only have four classes this semester?"

Thomas turned to Minho in surprise, catching him read his schedule of his shoulder.

"Yeah, I didn't want to work too much this semester."

Newt scoffed in disapproval. He, just like the rest of the university staff, felt Thomas was wasting his potential in classes he didn't need.

"C'mon Tommy, you could've applied to more than that. You juggled six classes your first semester here and managed to pass them with flying colors. You should have signed up for their science program, you would do well."

Thomas scowled. "You sound like Rat Man: ' _You would do well in our technology program, Thomas.'_ No thanks. I don't want to."

"I understand your pain, shuckface, but what are you going to do with all that free time? It's not like we're going to have the time to hang out this year."

Thomas shrugged. He hadn't thought that far. "I can help you train for the games this year." He suggested. Minho's brows rose up in contemplation. "Most of my classes are easy anyway. I think by the time the winter games come around, I'll be stress free enough to help you train."

"Mm, a sweat soaked Thomas helping me train. I think a like this idea." The athlete grinned. Thomas's blush made his grin more lecherous than it needed to be.

"I can already hear Professor Janson crying now." Newt sighed exasperatedly. He grabbed a heavy English book from the shelf and dumped it into the basket in his hand.

Thomas and Minho scowled.

Professor Janson, aka Rat Man, was one of the big wigs in the university. Not only was he a student counselor, but he was head of the English department and one of the faculty members constantly on Thomas's case. He'd been saved the discomfort of having Janson as his professor the last two semesters; he only had to deal with the man as a counselor. This year, however, he was unlucky.

"Ugh, don't remind me. I have him as my literature professor."

Newt's eyebrows shot into his hairline. Minho barked out a laugh.

"Oh man! That's some shitty luck you have there, Thomas!"

"Thanks," the brunet deadpanned.

Newt suddenly handed him the same English book he had picked up from the shelf. "I guess this means we're classmates, Tommy."

Minho's laughter caught off abruptly. "Seriously?"

They spared him a curious look.

"Are you shanks pulling my leg? Are you telling me that we're all in the same lit class together?"

Thomas broke into a wide smile, his mood lifting. "You have him too Minho?"

The older boy nodded, his expression a mixture of amusement and regret.

"I was thinking of withdrawing but if you shanks are gonna be there, I'll stay. Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you both suffer Rat Man's lessons without me as a buffer?"

Newt chuckled at the boy's antics but Thomas found himself frowning. "I'm going to suffer regardless. He seems obsessed with me."

"Because you're a smart boy and you're wasting your time with classes you don't need." Newt chided. He dumped two more English books into his basket, grunting from the weight. (Minho made to take the basket from his hands but Newt stopped him with a glare.) "Don't worry about it, Tommy. Professor Janson has a full semester this year. There's no way he'll find the time to bother you."

Thomas could only hope.

* * *

With their bags loaded with heavy textbooks, notebooks, folders and writing supplies, the boys made their way across campus for home before setting off to the grocery store.

The university was still bustling today; late students with their moving trucks blocked off the usual parking lot. Students who had already settled in wandered around campus in search of old friends, new friends, class supplies or something to occupy their time.

Minho and Newt waved at familiar faces, greeted those who called their names and smiled at those they didn't recognize but felt inclined to give them recognition anyway. Thomas, on the other hand, walked in silence beside them, his mind churning with thoughts.

Images from last night came into mind, followed by questions, concerns and mortification. He didn't want to make their arrangement anymore of a big deal than it already was. Newt and Minho were in for a busy semester, the chances of the three of them coming together like that were starting to grow slim and Thomas wasn't sure if he felt relieved or disappointed. If they planned on starting slow with him, he hoped his E.D. wouldn't be a hindrance. He'd just been nervous that time. He was sure if Minho or Newt wanted him to please them individually, he would be up to the task. He had to be, otherwise, what purpose did he have for staying with them?

(He supposed he didn't have to be fully functional to make it work.)

A part of them wondered what the rest of their friends would think if they discovered their relationship. Not that he cared so much. (Okay, he did a little.) He knew for a fact Minho and Newt didn't—they were obvious with their relationship when it first began after all—he couldn't help the curiosity.

(A part of him wondered how no one knew yet, despite how obvious Minho and Newt were with their relationship.)

Would Teresa think it weird? Would Aris? He knew Alby wouldn't care regardless.

What would Gally think?

He snorted at the thought, missing the inquisitive glance Newt shot his way.

Gally would tease him if he knew. He would find it wrong and unnatural. Maybe even a little disgusting. He didn't think the guy was homophobic or anything—he was pretty cordial with Newt after all—but a poly relationship was a different kind of circumstance. Some people didn't understand that.

(Sometimes he couldn't help wonder if he didn't either.)

Thomas stole a glance at the boys. They weren't holding hands like they normally would when together, but they hadn't been doing that since Thomas's inclusion. Not in public anyway. Did they stop on his account? Because they knew he wasn't comfortable with their PDA?

Did they think he would grow jealous? Ashamed?

They didn't have to stop. Minho and Newt were Minewt before he came along. They were entitled to their affections with each other. He felt horrible thinking they would stop on his account.

A warm, slightly sweaty hand embraced his own. He snapped out of his thoughts upon contact and caught sight of Newt's penetrating eyes gazing into his own. Concern swam behind those dark eyes.

"What's going on in that head of yours?"

Thomas stole a glance over Newt's shoulder. Minho seemed preoccupied with someone unfamiliar behind them, their conversation heated with the way the track captain grew red in the face. Newt followed his gaze but provided no explanation. He merely shrugged and brought the brunet closer, their fingers entangling.

"Out with it, Tommy. Nothing good comes outta you when you're quiet like this."

"I was just thinking."

"That was apparent," the blond deadpanned. "About what you slinthead?"

"Us." The words slipped out of his mouth before he realized it.

Newt stopped in his tracks, his unexpected halt jarring Thomas. Minho and his companion walked on, no more aware of their surroundings than Thomas was about their conversation.

"What about us?"

Thomas felt embarrassed for even mentioning it. (Made worse by the fact this wasn't the first time today Newt had to ask him what had him so preoccupied.)

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"It's something if it's got you this preoccupied." The blond frowned, his disapproval radiating off him in waves. "This is about last night, isn't it? It's still bothering you."

Thomas sighed in defeat. There was no use in avoiding it now.

"Look, I don't want you and Minho to change because of me. Just because I'm uncomfortable with PDA doesn't mean you two can't be lovey-dovey with each other, okay? I won't get upset if you two want to spend time alone together or something. I don't… if what happened yesterday happens again, I'll make up for it. I'll figure it out. I just… I hope that doesn't change us."

Newt searched his face for a moment, making Thomas's nerves react unpleasantly. He trembled slightly on his feet, his heart quickening. He hoped Newt couldn't feel his quivers through their fingers. He didn't want to talk about this anymore than he needed to. He nodded a moment later, though the displeasure remained etched in his eyes. Thomas felt the guilt gnaw at him.

"I'll tell Minho that's how you feel, but you don't have to feel ashamed about what happened last night. It happens. You were nervous and it was your first time. I promise we'll go slow next time." The sincerity in his voice was enough to make Thomas wince, but he resisted the urge. He wanted there to be a next time, he just hoped he wouldn't disappoint either of them again.

"Hey you shanks!" Minho called from the housing building steps. "You guys coming or what?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're coming!" Thomas yelled. He gave New a bright smile, one he hoped wasn't as forced as it felt, and tugged the blond along.

(He missed the discreet glance Minho gave to Newt, a silent question passing between them. Newt's response was just as silent, he lips mouthing over the words _later_.)

Minho grabbed onto Thomas's free hand, giving the boy a devilish smile, as they walked down the now empty hallway toward their dorm.

* * *

 **Comments? Questions? Critics?  
Leave a review!  
I always respond.**


	5. Side Story: Grocery Shopping

**Disclaimer:** _The Maze Runner_ series (c) James Dashner

 _Side stories work like filler chapters, but they're all related to the same universe. Some really important information will pop up in side stories so I don't think it's a good idea to skip it. They're also a good way to develop other characters since Tribulations is mostly Thomas's POV._

 _Excuse the errors. This is written in Newt's POV_

* * *

 **Side Story:  
**

 _ **Grocery Shopping**_

 _"In which Thomas is anxious, Minho is oblivious and Newt wants to strangle the both of them for not communicating properly."_

* * *

Newt really didn't see the purpose of a relationship outside of its most primal need. He'd been content sleeping with Minho out of basic necessity. Falling in love had been accidental on both their parts. Falling in love with Thomas, well, that hadn't been foreseen either. If he thought dating Minho was a handful, dating Minho _and_ Thomas was another level of unbelievable complexity.

Compared to Thomas, Minho was easy. He was honest about his desires and had no trouble telling Newt when he absolutely hated something. No mushrooms on the pizza? No problem! Hate the way that cologne smells? Gone in a second! Want to play a game? Sure! Newt complied with Minho's wishes and found satisfactory compromises when both stumbled on an impasse. Minho listened to him and Newt did the same.

Thomas was not so simple.

He wasn't very forthcoming with his feelings—not for any effort of trying, of course. Thomas cared deeply for his partners and tried to comply with both their wishes, even if that meant he had to neglect his own. Newt found it endearing but worrisome. Thomas had special needs, to allow the boy to neglect said needs—especially the more problematic medical ones—had Newt gnawing his bottom lip in anxiety. Especially now, when the three of them were wandering the aisles of their local grocery store.

Minho took the lead, flittering here and there in every aisle for food that wouldn't perish quickly in their new dorm, but would fill them to satisfaction when eaten. Newt pushed the near empty cart down the aisle, eying three boxes of cereal they had found that they—partially—agreed upon: a box of cheerios (for the health), frosted flake (for the sugar) and fruity pepples (for the sugary flavor).

Thomas walked alongside the cart in a leisurely pace. He kept his eyes on Minho as they walked, but Newt caught the boy's occasional glances at the cereal boxes, a worried glint in those chocolate brown eyes. He knew why, of course. The three of them had been friends for so long, Newt felt it was a feat to be able to read his boyfriend's body language so well. It also irked him how dense Minho was being when the track star didn't notice Thomas's hesitance in their choice of cereal, or that he didn't out right agree to wanting them in the first place.

He wanted to kick Minho in the shin. Or punch him. Punching would work too.

What bothered him more was Thomas's refusal to speak up. All he had to do was let Minho know he was allergic to two-thirds of their chosen brands. Newt didn't understand why Thomas was being so tight lipped about it. It wasn't like Minho would shun him for it. Lots of people had food allergies. Hell, Newt had some! Did that make him weird? Of course not.

He guessed it was more than that. Thomas was still mortified about their failed adventure as a couple last night after all.

When Minho wandered far enough away from them, Newt cleared his throat, loud enough to catch the boy's attention. Thomas gave him an inquisitive stare. He glanced at the cereal boxes then back to Thomas, the question implied but unspoken. The brunet looked away, his brows furrowed in a way that reminded Newt of the times Thomas felt insecure (which was often, he noticed.) Thomas crossed his arms, brown eyes fixated anywhere that wasn't Newt.

"It's not a big deal." He muttered. "It's not like I eat a lot of cereal anyway." No he didn't. He was lactose intolerant, but sometimes cereal was all they had to eat in the dorm when they grew tired of the cafeteria food and ramen noodles. "I'll just eat the frosted flakes."

"And when Minho finishes that off, then what? Are you going to let yourself starve or do you plan on upsetting your stomach with cereal you can't eat?" He was being impertinent but honestly, he was tired of Thomas letting them ignore his health.

It was bad enough the boy was tormenting himself about last night, letting them ruin his health was not something Newt could handle. (The cereal wouldn't kill him, but it was enough to give Thomas digestive problems for two days.)

Thomas saddled the blond with an expression that screamed exasperation-or his insistent worrying-and apology—as though he was at fault for anything his body did.

Newt exhaled through his nose. _Tommy please, don't let your insecurities control you._

"Newt—"

"Please, Tommy, let Minho know. How do you expect this thing to work out if you don't talk to us?"

They stopped walking then, the aisle devoid of movement. The mention of the track star brought their eyes back to the empty aisle, but all they saw were stacks of cookies, boxed juices and other snacks.

Thomas gnawed on his bottom lip, a habit he had stolen from the blond over the summer, before he gave him a reluctant nod. "Fine. I'll tell him, but he's going to be disappointed. I have a laundry list of food I'm allergic to and most of it are things he likes."

"Tommy, the most important thing is that you tell him. Besides, it's not like he's going to break up with you because you can't eat pizza."

"What?"

All eyes turned to Minho, the older boy having just returned from wherever he had wandered to. He dumped a bag of potato chips into the cart before giving Thomas and Newt a look that conveyed his turmoil.

"What do you mean Thomas can't eat pizza?" He stared at Thomas, mouth slightly agape. "He's joking right? How can you not eat the greatest dish in the world?"

Newt watched as the brunet tensed, uncertainly and guilt marring his face. The urge to punch Minho came back with startling force, but he resisted. It wouldn't do to make a show. He would also feel bad for hurting his boyfriend even if it is in his second boyfriend's defense.

Thomas licked his lips. His eyes were fixated on a point on the floor by Minho's feet.

"Um… I'm actually allergic to tomatoes so…" he trailed off.

Minho frowned. "So? You can eat pizza without sauce."

"I… I can't eat the cheese either." He murmured, cheeks turning pink.

"Oh, because you're lactose intolerant? You don't have to put cheese on a slice of pizza either."

Newt couldn't help but sigh. He had to admit, Minho could be persistent if he wanted to.

Thomas rubbed the back of his neck, face red with shame. "I can't eat the dough either because of the wheat. Pizza is just… a toxic combination for me. I rather avoid the, uh, diarrhea explosion."

That was an understatement, but Newt would rather not think about the last time Thomas had a slice of pizza. He shuddered.

Minho's expression was blank. Newt couldn't read what was happening behind those almond shaped eyes, but whatever it was, he hoped it wasn't something that would make Thomas feel worse than he did now. He didn't want Thomas to close himself off because of something his body couldn't help. Getting him to open up again would require a pry bar.

Minho suddenly blinked. He shook his head with an exaggerated sigh and said, "I'm sorry Thomas, we need to break up."

"Minho!" Newt snapped, outrage burning in his veins. Thomas's body stiffened, his jaw slack. Newt was ready to strangle the runner, but the boy suddenly laughed. He grabbed Thomas by the hand and pulled him into a hug. He squeezed tightly.

"I'm just kidding, jeez! You shanks need to lighten up!" They pulled apart, a wide smile on Minho's face. "Okay, fine, no pizza, I get it. You've got food allergies. What else are you allergic to and is it going to kill you?"

Newt massaged his temples as Thomas reluctantly divulged the long list of food he couldn't have.

(He hoped Thomas included all the _non_ -food related items he was allergic to as well. If Tommy was already sensitive about his sexual dysfunction—after just one night—he didn't want to see what would happen if Minho accidentally used the wrong lube or condom. That would just make things worse.)

He followed behind them in silence, relieved they wouldn't have to scramble to the hospital now that Minho knew, but also frustrated with the lack of communication. Honestly, did they have to make things so complicated between them?

"What about peanut butter?"

Newt stopped in his tracks, the cereal boxes and bag of potato chips jerking from the unexpected halt.

"I'm okay with peanut butter." Thomas smiled.

"Okay good. Let's grab some."

Newt immediately abandoned his cart and hurried after them. "No! No peanut butter! I'm allergic to peanut butter!"

"Oh come on!"

* * *

 **Comments? Questions? Critics?  
Drop a review!  
I'd be happy to answer them!**


	6. Part V

**Disclaimer:** _The Maze Runner_ trilogy (c) James Dashner

 _Excuse the errors ;w;_

* * *

 _ **Part V**_

* * *

After they sorted out their books and groceries, and Minho wrapped his head around the possibilities that Thomas could be allergic to a large assortment of things—

("Maybe that's why you couldn't get it up last night, you're probably allergic to that brand."

" _Minho!"_

"That's not how allergies work, Min.")

—they spent the rest of the day in the company of friends. The boys met up with Alby, Aris and Teresa, who had brought along Rachel, Harriet and Sonya, for one last round of fun before the hustle and bustle of Monday started.

They went out for drinks; ordered food at a restaurant they could all afford—most definitely the last time they would be able to—and laughed their day away. They barely made it back in time for curfew, before the gates closed off for the night and the only way in was by waking up the head security guard or the Dean. Both options were unpleasant, really.

Thomas claimed the bottom bunk as his bed that night. Minho climbed the top while Newt re-claimed the single twin bed he had sat in the day previously. Minho had tried to tempt both boys on another amorous adventure, but the slight buzz of alcohol and their full, content stomachs made both him and Newt far too sleepy for anything strenuous.

They were all asleep before they knew it.

* * *

He woke with a start that following morning, his body sore from a bad sleeping position and his stomach growling for food. He stretched the full length of his bed, catching the sweet melody of the morning birds just outside their window and the eerie silence of an empty dorm hallway. Thomas stilled mid-stretch.

He jerked upright, whipped his head to the bed across from his; Newt's sheets were neatly made, pressed down to near perfection as Newt always did. He didn't hear Minho's snoring or see the muscular, tanned arm hanging down the side like he expected it would.

With trepidation, he turned to the clock Newt had hung up on the wall. It read 9:30 in the morning.

"SHIT!"

First day of school and he was already late for class.

* * *

Thomas sat sulkily in the lunch hall that afternoon, pushing around vanilla pudding with a plastic spoon. Across from him sat Newt, a half-eaten container of chocolate pudding in his hand.

The blond rolled his eyes. "I tried wakin' you, but you sleep like the bloody dead. What did you expect me to do? Drag you out?"

"You should have," he grumbled. "It was the first class of the semester, Newt. That's a bad first impression."

The blond shrugged nonchalantly. "At least it wasn't Professor Janson's class."

Thomas shuddered. He was lucky in that sense. Rat Man would never get off his case if Thomas missed _his_ class. (Newt wouldn't either, but it was easier to keep him from knowing than Janson. Besides, he could bribe the blond.)

"I guess," he murmured, resigned. He dropped the spoon into his pudding and slid it away from them. "Where's Minho? We have class next."

"Right here!" He grinned. Minho plucked the pudding off the table and began devouring it, his cheeks flushed and his black hair still damp from a recent shower. He eyeballed Newt's unfinished pudding with interest, but the blond snatched the treat before Minho could reach for it.

He gave him a silent, challenging look. Minho stuck out his tongue.

"Fine, don't give me _your_ pudding."

"Good that, because it's mine."

"How was morning practice?" Thomas smiled, amused.

Minho rolled his eyes, a scowl on his lips. "Could've been better. Too many shanks forgot to keep fit over the summer. Coach ragged on them hardcore as punishment. Not me though, I out ran those shanks three times over before Coach decided I could leave early."

"So what made you late?" Thomas asked. He stole a piece of bread from Newt's tray and examined it carefully. He ignored Newt's chuckle, but felt the heat of embarrassment crawl up his neck anyway.

Minho's spoon scraped the bottom of the pudding cup for the last bits of vanilla pudding. "I was showering." There was a hidden _duh_ in his statement that Thomas refused to acknowledge.

"Well then," Newt began. He tossed Minho an apple then gathered his things. "We've got English next. Let's not be late for that, yeah?"

"Good that," the boys chimed.

* * *

Professor Janson was already seated in his desk by the time the boys arrived. They were some of the early few in the class since neither one of them wanted to ignite Rat Man's ire so early in the semester. They sat somewhere in the middle of the class, with Thomas by the window, Newt in between and Minho closer to the center of the room.

(Truthfully, Minho and Thomas would have preferred the back, but Newt didn't seem too keen on the idea even if it was Rat Man's class.)

Janson ignored them for the most part, but Thomas was not fooled. He didn't need to look up from his book to know he had fully acknowledge Thomas's presence in the classroom. Thomas may not have had class with the professor until now, but he did have him as a counselor, he recognized the subtle movements of his body language. Professor Janson was much more alert now than he was before, that was for sure.

Thomas glanced back to his companions carefully, not wanting Janson to know he associated with them, though he wasn't really sure why. He didn't like the idea of Rat Man knowing anything about his personal life, really. As he expected, however, Newt and Minho were oblivious to the professor's subtle changes.

He exhaled grimly.

* * *

English went off without a hitch. Once everyone was accounted for, Professor Janson started with the obligatory introductions and what he expected from everyone during the course of the semester.

Thomas felt that was a personal offense. The way Janson's eyes fell on him after every rule made him feel like the man was expecting miracles. Newt and Minho must have noticed it too, because they seemed a lot more agitated as the period went on. Gally had also noticed what with the way the boy's expression ranged from arrogance to resentment every time he looked Thomas's way.

(It was bad enough he was taking the class with Rat Man of all people, but did Gally really need to be in this class too?)

The rest of the session was filled with introductions from the students, a quick rundown of the syllabus and the soft scratching of pens against paper as Rat Man had unloaded their first assignment. The grumbles were silenced by the professor's steely glare.

Thomas was the first one done. He kept his pen held high, mimicking the movements of writing, as he discreetly examined the rest of the class for any more early birds. Newt sent him an inquisitive look but refocused on the assignment before Thomas could reply. Minho seemed stuck, his page only half full with scribbles Thomas hoped were coherent enough for Rat Man. Movement from the right caught his attention.

Gally stood, paper at hand—his writing astonishingly neat despite their crunch for time, from what Tomas could see. He carefully dropped his assignment into the empty basket on Janson's desk. He gave the professor a kind smile, one Janson returned with a curt nod, then returned to his desk to gather his things.

Thomas stood up then. He caught Gally's smug gaze on his way to the front, a part of him wanted to rub in the fact that he'd been finished with his paper five minutes before Gally did.

Professor Janson watched him upon his approach. He gave the brunet a smile, as though he were pleased to see Thomas, and plucked the paper right out of Thomas's hand.

"I heard you were late to your first class, Thomas." He tore his eyes away from the sheet to stare at Thomas. "Why is that?"

Annoyance burned his blood. He kept his face neutral despite his irritation.

"Woke up late," he murmured.

Jason's eyebrows rose slightly. "Ah, yes. You're living with others, is that right?"

"Yeah, but that's irrelevant. I went to bed late."

The man nodded. He dropped the paper into the basket then gave Thomas a pleasant smile.

"Good work Thomas. I expect great things from you."

"Right," He grumbled.

He gave his boyfriends' a pleading look before exiting the classroom.

* * *

"I hope that shank isn't bloody up to nothin'," Newt growled the moment they were together again. "What business does he have asking you about us?"

"Trouble is what," Minho said, a scowl on his face. "Probably thinks it's our fault Thomas was late."

"Exactly." Thomas frowned. "I told you guys, Rat Man's obsessed with me. He's worse than Gally!"

"Speaking of, did you see the look that shank gave you? I wanted to punch him in that ugly face of his."

"Minho," Newt chided.

The athlete rolled his eyes. "I wasn't going to of course. I'm not going to give Rat Man any reason to have me removed from the building."

"Good that," Newt gave each of them a kiss on the lips. "I'm going to class. See you two later. And stay out of trouble! The both of you!"

"We'll save you dinner." Thomas promised.

Newt gave them a wave before disappearing behind the classroom door.

Minho patted Thomas on the shoulder. "Come on. I'll walk you to your next class."

* * *

Thomas had Gally in two more classes after that. He seemed more genial until he spotted Thomas in the room, and although his earlier smugness had not been present, Thomas could still feel Gully's general dislike for him from across the room. They had no choice but to sit nearby in their last class together—an advance Mathematics class his advisor was adamant for Thomas to take—which only worsened the older boy's attitude against him.

It was a wonder how either of them survived. Thomas was sure he was going to punch the damn shank right in the face is Gally sighed insufferably one more time! (If looks could kill, Thomas felt he would have been gutted with the way Gally glared at him just for clicking his pen too much.)

Thomas's last class for the day went by uneventfully. They got out earlier than the rest, which left Thomas on his lonesome. He dropped his bag by the foot of his bed and sprawled against the mattress with a relieved sigh. Newt wouldn't be back until late afternoon and Minho had one more team meeting before his schedule was set for the fall. Thomas hadn't thought to ask Teresa for her schedule; he wouldn't know if she was done for the day or had more classes to go. Without any way of knowing, he resigned himself to lying on the bed until one of his boyfriends came to entertain him.

He fell asleep in the calm solace of the room.

* * *

"Hey."

Thomas moaned. Something brushed along the side of his face, rough skin contrasted with the smoothness of his cheek, but the movements were gentle, almost loving. He scrunched his nose in disturbance and lazily swatted the offending contact away. It returned swiftly, this time poking him hard in the ribs.

"Hey shuck face, wake up dude."

Somewhere in the farthest reaches of his mind, he heard movement. Something warm and heavy tilted the mattress, the shift pulling him closer to the weight.

"Tommy," a voice whispered, hot against his ear. "Wake up Tommy." Something soft pressed against his cheekbone.

Thomas twitched. His dreams were shifting, thanks to the disturbance, but the sweet embrace of sleep held onto his conscious mind firmly. He vaguely registered the mysterious weight double around him, his mattress seeming to dip somewhere in the middle. He heard the soft snickers of another before something grabbed his chin. Fingers softer than the ones previous, tilted his chin toward the right and something soft and warm—something familiar—pressed against his lips.

A memory formed in the darkness. A time where those lips were on his and something wet and just as warm invaded his mouth like the tides of the ocean. He recalled the familiar blond hair, the sensation of Newt's fingers running through his locks of hair; how aroused he'd been with Newt on top and Minho working his way down. And the humiliation that came after. The looks of disappointment on Minho's face when he realized nothing more would come out that night. Newt's concerned eyes watching as he gnawed his lower lip.

He wanted nothing more than to forget it had ever happened.

He deepened the kiss before Newt could pull way. He felt the older boy stiffen, most likely surprised with Thomas's eagerness, but it was short lived. He melted into the kiss, letting Thomas lead the way. He wrapped his arms around the blond, pulling Newt's firm body flush against his.

"Tommy," the voice murmured against his mouth. "Wake up. Dinner is ready."

"I don't want any," He breathed, holding the blond tight. "I want you and Minho."

Somewhere in the room, Thomas couldn't tell as his eyes were still closed, he heard the athlete choke. His eyes fluttered open then, catching sight of Newt lying on top of his frame while Minho, red faced and teary eyed, tried to regain air in his lungs. Once Newt was certain Minho wasn't going to die, he turned back to Thomas, his expression apprehensive.

"Tommy, think about what you're asking here."

"I know what I'm asking." He interjected. His hands slid down Newt's shoulders, the curve of his back and down to his hips until they landed on the curvature of Newt's ass. He squeezed the blond with promise, pushing their groins together. "Please. _Please._ "

Newt bit his lip. He glanced back to Minho, who watched them with bated breath, dark eyes wide and hopeful.

"Minho?"

The track captain blinked in surprise. He snapped out his daze and frantically searched around the room for something. He ran toward the computer desk, nearly tripping over himself in the process and yanked open the drawer. He pulled out a bottle creamy white bottle and slammed it on the desk, his body buzzing with excitement.

"Tommy wants what Tommy wants. Let's do it. Let's. Do. It!"

Newt frowned at the boy's insistence but one last look on Thomas's face broke down his apprehension. He sighed then pressed his forehead against Thomas's.

"Okay," He breathed, eyes closed. He planted a kiss against Thomas's brow before he pulled away, straddling the younger male. "Okay, we'll do it. It's going to hurt and it'll be messy, but we'll do what we can to make it hurt less. Just relax your body and trust us."

Thomas took a deep breath. His heart beat a mile a minute in his chest and his mind ran circles in his head, but he refused to allow their failed Saturday night to plague him anymore than it already did. He exhaled and stared Newt in the eyes.

"I trust you both."

Newt smiled, the relief radiating off him in waves.

"Good that," He heard Minho say. "Let's get started."

* * *

 **Comments? Questions? Critics?  
Drop a review!  
I'd be happy to answer them! ;w;  
**


	7. Part VI

**Disclaimer:** _The Maze Runner_ trilogy (c) James Dashner

 _Excuse any errors :|_

 ** _Warning(s):_** _Mentions of sexual content_

* * *

 ** _Part VI_**

* * *

He woke up deliciously sore; muscles exhausted; skin ablaze. A dull ache radiated from his lower half, slow and pulsing. A memory from last night bubbled back to the forefront of his mind and Thomas couldn't help the languid smile that stretched his lips. It had hurt, just as Newt warned, despite all the preparation they had done. Minho had gone in first. He'd been slow and methodical, the pain of being pierced lessened with him, and although Thomas was grateful for his carefulness, his arousal suffered.

He'd been erect throughout the experience—a god send, surely—but the orgasm was nearly impossible. Minho had grown tired, his post-orgasm high long substituted with frustration. Newt took his place then. The difference between their lengths didn't cross Thomas's mind until he had no choice but to experience it. Minho was longer. Newt was thicker. The blond grinded hard against Thomas's prostate, his dick squeezed tight in-between those moist walls, until Thomas finally came in a burst of sticky white all over the blankets.

Three hours. It took three hours for Minho and Newt to make him cum. Three long, arduous hours of his boyfriend's desperately trying to achieve a position that would make him scream in ecstasy.

He didn't get to scream, but he came at least.

They cuddled with him that night, hot and sweaty; sticky with their fluids and unbelievably drained. Thomas's tender muscles pulsed in delicious discomfort. It sent fire through his veins and ignited the arousal in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to do it again—felt embarrassed for even admitting it—but his partners had already fallen asleep.

He dreamt of their first time together.

Now awake in a dirty bed, empty of his lovers, and naked and sore, Thomas felt the storm of emotion slam into him light a freight train. Embarrassment, affection and anxiety swirled in his chest as the experience of last night dawned on him.

Minho made it no secret his slow to orgasm was a problem. He had watched the post-coital high on Minho's face morph into exasperation with every thrust he made. He'd seen the arousal in Newt's expression change into uneasiness until he urged the track captain to relax and leave the rest to him.

Thomas curled into himself, his face hot with shame. He didn't want Minho to feel annoyed with him. He enjoyed their threesome, even if his body took forever to show it. He hoped Minho wouldn't take it as a personal offense. And if he did, Thomas would make up for it. He definitely, definitely would.

* * *

Newt worried his bottom lip, his mind wandering back to last night as his classmates filed into the room. Alby slipped into the chair beside him. The loud _bang_ of his text book jolted Newt out of his daze.

"For bloody sakes you shank! Give me a heart attack why don't ya?!"

"Sorry," Alby deadpanned. "I didn't realize you were sleeping with your eyes open."

Newt rolled his eyes. "I wasn't, I was just thinking."

"Ah, _thinking._ " Alby rubbed his chin mockingly. "About Minho or Thomas?"

"Tommy."

Alby nodded sagely. "Oh yes, Mr. Edison. What about the newbie has you troubled this time?"

"We had sex last night."

"You and Minho?"

Newt nodded. He leaned back against his chair, dark eyes focused on the door as though he expected Thomas to walk in at any moment. Alby shifted in his seat, brows furrowed with interest.

"Okay, what happened?"

Newt sighed. Outside of Minho and Thomas, Alby was the only other person the blond could confide in about his troubles. The fact Alby was not judgmental about Newt's poly-relationship was an added bonus to their friendship.

"Tommy has… _difficulty_ … when we become sexual." He frowned. Calling it "difficult" felt wrong on his tongue somehow, like Thomas was damaged in some way. He didn't see it that way of course, but Newt still felt guilty for calling it that. "Last night proved how much of a problemit'll be with us." He grimaced. That wasn't a good word either.

Alby raised an eyebrow. "You mean he couldn't get an erection? He's got E.D.?"

"No, I don't think it's that. Last Saturday, he had a hard time maintaining an erection, but last night, it was the orgasm he couldn't reach. It took us three hours to get _something_ out of him." Newt rubbed his temples. "Minho was really frustrated with him."

"That's not the greenbean's fault."

"Try telling him that." Newt grumbled. "Minho was already gone when I woke up this morning and I didn't have time to leave Tommy a note before I left. I'm worried those two shanks are going to do something stupid."

Alby's chuckle was deep and uncomforting. Newt gave the older male a dark look, his patience slowly waning. Alby held up his hands in a placating gesture and said, "I get it. They're morons, but they're your morons so deal with it."

"Thanks for the bloody advice. I'll be sure to treasure it always."

"Alright, alright, you want something more useful? Here's what you shuckfaces should be doin' with the newbie: _experiment._ You said the greenbean's never been with anyone before right? Then there's a good chance you two shanks ain't hitting the right areas for him. Fool around a bit. Talk about what he wants. If he doesn't have E.D. then this'll be an easy fix, but if he does, see a doctor and let that slinthead Minho know. From what you tell me, the kid's pretty damn insecure. Minho getting mad with him about klunk like this is going to make him feel worse." Alby rolled his eyes dramatically as though Minho's stupidity was palpable from where ever he was. (Newt didn't doubt it.)

"Now that I've single-handedly fixed your atrocious love life, do you have an extra syllabus that I can borrow? I can't remember where I left mine."

Newt scoffed, partially offended but terribly amused. "Thanks Alby, I think you saved my _atrocious_ love life with your words of wisdom."

"God damn right! So the syllabus, Newt?"

* * *

Minho left the dorm before dawn broke for a quick jog to clear his head. He set down for the track field, his head in the clouds and his muscles still sore from last night. Taking Thomas's virginity had been something Minho wanted to do from the get –go. He had planned the whole thing out and shared it with Newt, who had laughed but helped him plan when it became obvious that Newt too wanted something with Thomas. He wanted it to be a magical experience for the brunet, something the three of them could remember and cherish. He hadn't accounted for Thomas's sexual dysfunction to get in the way or the boy's laundry list of allergies. Now he understood why Newt changed his plans around; why they had switched lube brands and condoms as many times as they did.

If Minho were perfectly honest with himself, last night was a bit of a disappointment. He'd been wrong to carry around the fantasy that dating Thomas would be easy and he'd been wrong to get angry with the boy the way he did.

Thomas had been hurt. He knew it. Newt knew it. The look on the brunet's face when Minho gave up wrenched the track captain's heart with guilt. He knew the frustration he felt for what happened was nothing compared to the way Thomas felt. The boy tried. They all did.

God, he felt like such an asshole.

Was he doing something wrong? Clearly, he had to be. Newt ejaculated with no problem when it was just the two of them. But Thomas, he didn't understand. Was he not hitting the right areas? Did he want it faster? Harder maybe? Newt liked it slow. Prolonged. He always said it felt more intimate that way, and Minho agreed. He liked taking his time.

Thomas almost went soft when he did.

Minho scowled.

Slow and steady was not something Thomas liked. Newt seemed to have had the same idea, because it took him less time with vigorous, hard thrusting to get Thomas to cum.

Maybe Minho was truly a horrible lover and Newt was humoring him the whole time?

Maybe Thomas didn't like him?

Minho picked up the pace, his heart hammering with every step he took. He crossed another lap.

He was being ridiculous. This whole thing was ridiculous. He was still learning Thomas's body after all. They were bound to have complications. It took him a while to figure out Newt's kinks. If Thomas had any, he was damn sure going to learn them.

Minho swore the next time they were intimate, he was going to make Thomas cum like never before.

* * *

Thomas was surprised to find Minho in their dorm so soon after class. He dropped his backpack by the dresser and approached the silent, brooding athlete.

"Minho?" He questioned. He attentively sat down beside the boy, brown eyes apologetic. "Min, about last night—"

"Am I doing something wrong with you?"

Thomas felt the words die in his throat. Minho turned to him, brows furrowed, black eyes searching.

"I've been thinking about it all day. When I tried to give you a hand job, you didn't respond. When I finally get to fuck you, you don't cum. Is there something wrong with _me_ that you don't like Thomas? Am I not getting something here?"

"No, no, it's not you, Minho—" Thomas tried, but the intensity of Minho's gaze made his body tremble in anxiety. Minho's exasperation from last night and Saturday flashed back into his mind. He needed to try harder. He wanted to stop disappointing them like this.

"Minho," He murmured. He climbed into the older boy's lap and dipped in for a passionate kiss. Minho's hands slid up the length of his thighs and curved down to grip his ass, hard and wanting. Thomas moaned into their kiss, his heart suddenly hammering. He pulled away for a moment, entranced by Minho's half lidded eyes.

"Let me make up for last night, please." He pleaded.

Minho's hesitation felt like a punch in the gut, but the track star pressed his forehead against the brunet's chest and heaved a heavy sigh.

"If that's what you want Thomas. Make it up to me."

* * *

Thomas was asleep again by the time Newt returned to the dorm. He found Minho sitting on his bed, dressed down in boxers and a look of intense concentration on his face. He entered the room cautiously, one blond brow raised in silent question. Minho acknowledged his arrival, but refused to speak. Instead, he gestured toward the door then made his way out into the hall.

"What's going on?" Newt asked the moment the door closed behind them. He spotted a sizable bruise on Minho's collarbone, one he didn't recall being there last night. He reached out, long, slender fingers brushed against the discolored bruise lightly. The question was in his eyes before he spoke it.

Minho took his hand gently. He squeezed. Newt felt the inklings of worry gnaw on his nerves.

"What happened?"

"Thomas wanted to make up for last night." Minho began. The hardness in his gaze slackened.

Newt blinked. He remembered the day previous when Thomas had told him about wanting to make up for Saturday. To want to make up for last night too? Did Thomas think…?

"Okay, and?"

"I let him ride me."

" _And_?" He persisted.

Minho's body sagged. Newt felt the hand holding his tighten again. "He struggled. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have made it at all if I hadn't bit him at the last minute."

Newt frowned, perplexed. "You bit him?"

Minho nodded.

"And he came?"

"A little bit, yeah." Minho glanced back to the door before turning to Newt again. "I think Thomas is one of those people who really gets off on pain. He responds better to it at least. I think we should experiment with that."

"I don't know, Min. That's…" _Dangerous. Uncharted territory._

Newt knew nothing about masochism and he was certain Minho didn't either. When it came to sex, Minho and Newt were quite set on what they liked and didn't like. Sure, they experimented at first, but they fell into a pattern fairly quickly. The desire to explore the rabbit hole deeper had never really came into mind. But Thomas was a special circumstance and Newt wasn't sure if they were ready to explore that world. Yet, the brunet's behavior following their sexual adventures and his insecurity of their feelings for him kept Newt from voicing his trepidation.

Alby's advice about experimenting filtered back into his mind. He wanted Thomas to be happy, and as it was, he wasn't. He was nervous, unfulfilled and self-conscious. Everything Newt and Minho didn't want him to feel when it was between the three of them.

"Okay," He exhaled, feeling oddly resigned. "Alby suggested we experiment anyway. If you think we should then I'll agree to it, but this is an unknown world we're stepping into, Minho. The moment everything goes wrong, we need to stop. I don't want Thomas to get hurt. The point of this is to make him feel good when he's with us, not traumatize him."

Minho nodded, expression solemn. "For Tommy."

Newt suddenly huffed. "Who said you could call him Tommy?"

* * *

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Please leave a review!  
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	8. Part VII

**Disclaimer:** _The Maze Runner_ trilogy (c) James Dashner

 _This chapter is so angsty. Whyyyyyyy  
_

 **Warning(s):** Implied sexual content

* * *

 ** _Part VII_**

* * *

Thomas felt the shift in their dynamic before it became apparent. Sex with his boyfriends became a constant occurrence after their first time together, although the threesomes were no longer common. Minho and Newt took advantage of Thomas's light schedule.

On Tuesdays, when Minho returned early from practice, he would lead Thomas into sex. Some days he was gentle and slow. He would spend time prepping and lavishing the brunet in kisses. Other days, which was most often, Minho was rough, hasty, and almost uncaring. Thomas never failed to be sore those following Wednesdays, but the hot, blinding orgasms he'd get on those days kept him from complaining. He'd forgive Minho for slapping him or biting him so hard it broke skin if it meant he could still receive those orgasms.

Newt didn't seem to approve of it much.

(The bite marks on Tommy's shoulders made him wince every time.)

On Thursdays, when Thomas was free for most of the day and Newt had more study hall sessions, the brunet found himself on a very different sexual spectrum.

Whereas Minho had no problem tackling Thomas down and fondling him until he was panting, Newt offered they play a little game. They'd been literal at first. Gold Fish for one study hall; Crazy Eights the next. Maybe a little Jenga on the third. When a game was done and Newt still had time to spare, they would cuddle in each other's arms. Newt would run his fingers through the younger boy's hair, ask him how his day has been, what Minho had done if they'd met sometime in the day. They would swap stories of their classes; complain about things they couldn't control. Thomas enjoyed moments like this. He often wished Minho would apply it to their get-togethers.

Then, one day, Newt raised the stakes. The person who loses a game would get punished by the winner.

The idea turned him on more than he was comfortable admitting.

When he lost, which he often did—sometimes intentionally—Newt "punished" him. It was the first time Thomas begged for release.

The climax had been so intense, he forgot how to breathe; who he was, _where_ he was. He'd collapsed into his own spunk, gasping for air in his strained lungs, his body quivering uncontrollably and drenched in sweat. Newt, who hadn't bothered to touch his own hardened erection, came purely at the sight of the quivering boy. Time had run out then, Newt flew out of the dorm before he was late for his next class, leaving Thomas alone in his mess and emotions.

The pattern went on like that for a few weeks.

Despite the satisfaction of being able to please his lovers, Thomas felt incomplete. Their sex life was a wild experience—rumors were already starting to spread like wild fire in their dorm building—but the lack of emotional intimacy afterwards made Thomas's anxiety roar. Both Minho and Newt seemed distracted once the deed was done. Thomas couldn't help wondering what they were thinking once it was over.

Did they not like it? Was he bad? Did they want to switch? He wouldn't have minded. He didn't think it was fair he was always on the receiving end lately, even if the climaxes were nice. But how could he tell them that when he had enough trouble as it is? And how could he talk to either of them when they were always texting afterwards?

Thomas watched, curled on his side, wrists burning from Newt's latest experiment—tying his hands impossibly tight—as the blond in question reached for his phone and began to type.

Hurt blossomed in his chest like a spear through his heart followed by the anger that burned his veins. It chased away the hollow disappointment that resonated in his soul; filled him up with something more tangible. Something safer and strong. He curled tighter into himself, ignoring the aches and pains of their sexual romp. Images of the times when they used to cuddle flashed into mind. It made the ache worse and the anger boil.

He could still feel the greasy mess of their lube coating the ring of his anus, but what was once pulsating with heat felt cold and empty—like everything else lately. But Newt had climaxed; had come grunting his name. He'd kissed him until they couldn't breathe, embraced him so tightly, Thomas could believe for a moment they were very much in love, but then Newt pulled away and got on his phone.

He watched the blond's thumb dance across the screen, the soft electronic ticks methodic in the stark silence. The tell-tale _whoosh_ of a message being sent brought Thomas out of his reverie, and he gazed at the blond's head just as Newt turned around.

The older boy smiled softly. He ducked under the upper bunk and pressed a chaste kiss against the brunet's lips.

"How are you feeling?"

The sound of Newt's phone silenced Thomas's reply. He watched in resentment as Newt's brown eyes turned back to the phone, Minho's name suddenly bright against the screen.

Something sickening coiled in his stomach.

"You're texting Minho?" Thomas winced. His tome was too bitter for his liking.

Newt's thumb paused over a key, but the blond continued, humming a reply.

Thomas gnawed on his lower lip. He peeled a thin layer of skin with his teeth.

"Does Minho text you?" _When he's done with me?_

"Of course he does even when he knows he shouldn't." The blond scoffed, his tone chiding, but Thomas saw the affectionate smile on the older boy's lips. "Don't you get random texts from him?"

No was Thomas's honest answer, but instead he nodded. He didn't rust himself to speak at the moment.

He tore another thin layer of skin from his lips.

"We should… we should make love together again…"

The term felt strange on his tongue. "Making love" implied attachment. Romantic intimacy. Affection. What they had been doing lacked all of the above. Thomas felt they hadn't made love since he gave them his virginity three weeks ago. (When they discovered he was damaged goods; unable to climax the same way they could, even under the right circumstances.)

He missed their intimacy.

He missed their affection.

Newt searched his face for a moment, his expression unreadable. He grew anxious at the way those brown eyes lingered a second too long on his worried lips, Newt's brows furrowed in a way that showed he didn't really like something. He ran his tongue over them, tasting the soft copper of blood from them. He hadn't realized he'd been bleeding.

Newt leaned into his space again and planted a gentle kiss against his temple. He lingered a moment longer, his forehead pressed against Thomas's, his eyes closed as though he were thinking deeply. Thomas savored their closeness. He didn't move in fear of ruining their moment and tried to relish the warmth between them; the delicate way Newt's hands held onto his chin; the soft breathing of the blond's breath.

(A part of him mourned for Minho, who hadn't done this. Who, maybe, wouldn't ever do this—not with him.)

The silence was broken by Newt's exhale. "Okay Tommy, I'll tell Minho that's what you want." He pulled away, taking the warmth, the love and the tenderness away. "It's going to be difficult with midterms coming up but we'll figure something out." Newt reached for his clothes, cell phone still in hand.

Thomas watched him in silence, his body throbbing; emotions turbulent.

* * *

Newt and Minho strolled along the campus sidewalk, fingers locked and a bag with their dinner in Minho's hand. The autumn night hung overhead, the chilly air caressing their faces as the bright red leaves fluttered in the darkness. The bright lights of WCK'D U's campus dulled the starry night, but the few stars they could see brought a smile to the blond's lips. He leaned into Minho's form, enjoying the heat, but wishing their third lover was there with them.

(Minho had tried to call Thomas to join them on their hunt for dinner, but the brunet seemed hell bent on ignoring his calls. When Newt tried, he was sent straight to voice message. Minho had called him a shank out of spite, but the hurt was evident in the track captain's whole demeanor.)

"Thomas is getting anxiety again, Min." Newt murmured, remembering the blood from earlier. "He's peeling the skin on his lips."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"We're doing that to him. We're stressing him out, Minho!"

"We're all stressed out, Newt." The runner countered defensively. "Midterms are in two weeks, I've got a track game next Saturday, Janson's on Thomas's ass _again_ and you've got that assignment to do—we're all shucking stressed, Newt! At _least_ our experiments are working. He comes 95% of the time."

"But at what cost?" Newt snapped. "He doesn't talk to me anymore! He doesn't complain about things he has every bloody right to complain about!"

They stopped walking then, the heat of their conversation warming them uncomfortably.

"I tied him up today, Minho. I tied him up extra tight because I wanted him to tell me he was uncomfortable. I wanted him to let me know the bonds were too tight on his wrists, but you know what that bloody shank did? He dealt with it. Even when his skin was chafing and his wrists started bleeding, he didn't bloody say a damn thing! And you know why? Because he thinks that's what I bloody want, Minho! I could see it on his face, he thinks I _want_ him to suffer through that. He thinks I don't care enough to listen to what he wants. That's not bloody right Minho! That's not what I want Tommy to take away from us!"

Newt heaved, his body quivering, not from the cold or the rage, but from something deeper. His heart ached in a way it hadn't in a long, long time. His eyes burned before he knew it and the heat of embarrassment rushed through him so fast it was disorientating. His breath hitched. He turned away, but Minho pulled him into his arms and held him tight.

His voice were soft against his ears. "Okay, I get it. We've taken this too far. Thomas is suffering, you're suffering—"

"We're _all_ suffering, Minho." The blond muttered bitterly, his voice thick.

"Yeah," Minho sighed. He held onto Newt tightly. "Yeah… we are…"

"He wants to have a threesome. I told him we'd find a way to make it work for him." Newt pulled away, his nose pink but his cheeks dry. Minho grabbed the boy's hand again and resumed their walk, a part of him hoping their dinner was still warm enough to eat.

"It'll be easier once midterms are out of the way—"

"It has to be before midterms." They stopped again in front of the housing complex doors, Newt's eyes hard and wet under the lamp's light. Minho frowned in perplexity.

"Why before?"

"Tommy needs this now. He needs to know we love him and care for him. Waiting for midterms would be too long. And…" He paused for a moment, unsure of his words.

"And?" Minho urged gently.

"After midterms, I want to take him out somewhere special to celebrate. I want it to be romantic, an official date with the three of us. You're good at that, so… find us something great, yeah?"

Minho's expression softened at the thought. He nodded. "Of course."

"Good that." Newt breathed. "Now let's go home and feed Tommy."

* * *

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Leave a review!  
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	9. Side Story II: Thomas's Sick Day

**Disclaimer:** _The Maze Runner_ trilogy (c) James Dashner

 _I lost a lot of stats in the last week of August because the moderators of this site didn't bother to fix the graph glitch until the first day of September. ;w; Now I don't even know how the last chapter did because the numbers are off. Le sigh.  
_

 _Have some filler while I figure out where the rest of "Trials and Tribulations" is going to go._

 _I like to believe this is what happens when one doesn't take care of their wounds after coitus. (especially with their experimentation)_

 **Warning(s):** Typos probably

* * *

 _ **Side Story II:  
Thomas's Sick Day**_

* * *

After Newt's terrible illness last semester, the blond made it an unspoken mission to make sure none of his roommates befell an illness like his. He urged them to sleep well, drink enough fluids and to always wash their hands before and after every meal. Thomas and Minho were good at complying, seeing as neither one of them wanted to get sick period. There was too much going on this semester, one little sick day could set them back a week if they weren't careful. They weren't going to screw themselves up thanks to a silly little cold.

So, as all things in the world, it was only a matter of time for one of them came down with a nasty germ.

Thomas woke late in the day despite going to sleep early. His night had been restless, filled with nightmarish dreams and discomfort that woke him up at random intervals. His throat felt raw—he winced every time he swallowed—and his head throbbed with such intensity he was sure it would split open. His body felt sore and feeble. Just the idea of moving made him want to pant like a marathon runner. To make matters worse, he was certain he had class today—he couldn't recall which ones—but he most definitely had class.

He coughed, his whole body flaring in pain from the spasm. With a groan of discomfort, Thomas drew the covers over his head and fell back asleep. All thoughts of classes and assignments washed out by the darkness.

The second time he awoke, it wasn't any better. He'd kicked off his blankets some time in his sleep, his body unbearably hot. He felt sweaty and listless, moving still seemed like his worst enemy. He was content in laying there, curled on his side with nothing but the wall as company and sleep as entertainment. The silence of the dorm brought on a pleasant hum in his ears. His eyelids fluttered shut, the energy to stay awake now waning, as the soft hum of his own mind lulled him back into a gentle slumber.

The shrill ring of his text tone jolted him into consciousness. He groaned.

Thomas forced his body to move. He winced in complain, lethargic muscles screaming, until he grabbed his phone from the desk. It was a message from Newt.

"Fuck."

 _Where are you?_

Thomas glanced at the time: 12:55 PM, five minutes until Professor Janson's class (because it had to be Rat Man's class. God forbid Thomas got sick on any other day that wasn't English day.) Not only did he sleep the whole morning, but he was going to be late for the one class he shared with his roommates.

He sat up with a grunt, his head suddenly swimming. His phone rang again—another message from Newt:

 _You're late Tommy._

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, wincing at the grate in his throat. It felt like sandpaper scraping against his tonsils. He was sure he sounded worse than it felt.

 _Gonne be late. Just woke up._

He barely set the phone down when Newt's message came whooshing back.

 _What? You JUST woke up? You had classes today. Are you sick? =(_

Thomas felt his body stiffen in alarm.

 _I'm not sick!_ He wrote back hastily then hurried to change. His phone rang again, Minho's name flashing on the screen, but he had no time to read it. He was already scrambling out the door.

* * *

Thomas was five minutes late when he finally made it to class. Professor Janson watched him like a hawk from his place by the white board, the topic for today already written neatly in black marker. He gave him a sheepish apology then shriveled into his chair, exhausted from all the running. Newt and Minho gave him a look of concern, but Thomas waved them off discreetly. No way was he going to show Newt he had caught a damn cold. He always assumed Minho would be the first of them to come down with something. He was always running in various degrees of weather, sometimes without the appropriate attire and it wasn't like he was a complete clean freak when it came to personal hygiene. Sure, Newt always _told_ them to wash their hands after everything, but it wasn't like Minho _always_ complied. He had cheating days! And yet, it was Thomas who catches the cold. Of course.

He caught the suspicious look Newt was tossing his way, how his dark eyes roamed over his form as though it were looking for a clue that would give away Thomas's well-being. When he didn't find it, he refocused his attention to the front of the room, but Thomas could still feel those eyes roaming. Newt was keeping an eye on him that was certain.

"Nice of you to join us Thomas," Janson greeted stiffly. "You will see me after class, of course."

"Of course," He grumbled. He sank into his chair, already miserable.

"Now then, where was I?"

Newt and Minho waited for Thomas outside the classroom ten minutes after it was done for the day. His appearance had rapidly deteriorated throughout the eighty minutes they sat in that ghastly class. By the time Thomas rejoined him, his face was screwed up in annoyance, his cheeks rosy and his bangs slightly greasy against his forehead. Newt spotted the sheen of sweat gleaming under the light of the hallway.

"You are sick!" he snapped.

Thomas jumped, startled. "No I'm not!"

Newt pulled him close before he could protested and pressed the back of his hand against the boy's sweaty temple.

"You're bloody burning Tommy! What are you doing out of bed?!"

"You're the one who—"

"Minho!" Newt whirled on the older male before Thomas could finish, his eyes blazing with determination. "Get Tommy to bed before that fever gets worse! I have class next, but I'll be comin' straight back to the dorm with medicine and soup once I'm done. Do _not_ let him talk to you out of it, you hear me? _Don't._ " He gave the track star a scathing glare that had the boy nodding like a bobble head.

"You got it!"

Thomas spluttered for words, but Minho was already dragging him away before he could form sentences.

* * *

"You shouldn't have gotten sick, Greenie." Minho sighed the moment they were back in the dorm. "Now Newt's going to be on both our cases."

"Stop calling me 'Greenie'." He pouted. He climbed into bed on Minho's insistence, immediately curling onto his side. "It's not like I wanted to get sick. It just woke up this way."

"That's not how Newt sees it and you know it." Minho pulled up the thinnest sheet on Thomas's bed and pressed a kiss against his sweaty temple. "I've got classes soon then track, so I'll see you at five. Want me to bring you goodies?"

"As long as you can hide it from Newt." Thomas grumbled childishly.

Minho chuckled.

"You're too cute sometimes, Greenie."

"Stop calling me Greenie!"

"Stop being such a dumbass then. I'll be back later."

Thomas watched him go forlornly.

* * *

He woke up to Newt's prodding a few hours later. He groaned in complaint, feeling worse now than he did before, if that was even possible.

"I brought medicine." The blond said. He handed Thomas a small cup of red liquid and a bottle of water. "It's cherry flavored. It'll still taste like crap but if it helps with the fever then who cares, yeah?"

Thomas grumbled again, his mind too muddled for coherent words. He gulped the vile medicine and washed it down quickly with water. Ugh, he could still taste the revolting thing on his tongue.

Newt laughed. "You are honestly too bloody adorable. If you weren't sick, I would kiss you."

"You and Minho…" Thomas sighed, embarrassed.

Newt glanced at him inquisitively. "Minho and I what?"

"Nothing," He slurred.

Thomas swayed, the room suddenly spinning. He laid back down with Newt's careful guidance and passed out before his sheets were drawn.

Newt watched him breathe, worry gnawing at his insides.

* * *

He was still asleep when Minho returned, bags from the supermarket nearby at hand.

"How's he doing?"

Newt shook his head. "Still asleep. His fever isn't going down. He hasn't moved since I got here."

"Should we wake him up to eat?"

"No, let's let him rest. He needs it."

They watched the prone figure, his chest rising and falling from a deep slumber. Minho squeezed Newt's hand as a sign of assurance and anxiety. Newt squeezed back just as tight.

"Come on," Minho began, breaking the silence. "I brought us dinner."

The blond nodded, silently grateful for Minho's strength.

* * *

Newt woke up to the weight of his bed shifting. He jerked at the feel of arms wrapping around his torso and made to pull away, but heard the disgruntled murmur of a familiar voice against his back.

"Tommy?" He whispered. He could barely make out the brunet's figure in the dark, sleepy eyes not yet adjusted.

Thomas buried his nose into Newt's back again, heaving a rattling sigh. His body trembled against the blond. Sluggishly, he realized they were chills.

"Tommy, your fever—"

"I'm freezing."

"But you're burning up…"

Thomas murmured something incoherent against his pajamas. Newt craned his neck to get a better view of his boyfriend, but gave up in seconds. Thomas's grip on him was firm despite the male's weakness. His body continued to shiver against Newt's own, gentle as it was.

He was lulled back to sleep soon after.

* * *

"Wake up Newt. Come on ya shank, wake up!"

Newt stirred into wakefulness, his body rocking uncomfortably. Thomas's grip on his torso lay limp, his skin still blazingly hot; he could feel it radiating warmth through his own clothes. Minho crouched over them, one knee pressed against the edge of the bed, his hand holding for balance.

Newt stared at him with bleary eyes confused by the sudden wake up call. It wasn't until he registered the anxiety etched in Minho's face did he realize something was wrong. He sat up suddenly, slipping out of Thomas's hold easily.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I can't wake him up."

As if to prove a point, Minho shook the sleeping brunet harshly and watched in distress as the boy lay limp in bed, his face void of discomfort. Newt sucked in a breath. He pressed a hand against the boy's head and hissed out a curse.

"He's too hot. We have to take him to the emergency room."

Minho had his shoes on before Newt could finish speaking. He scooped their unconscious boyfriend into his arms and made way for the door dressed in nothing but a white tank and blue boxers. Newt grabbed the bare necessities from the dresser and followed after, his heart hammering in his chest.

* * *

Thomas came around to a dimly lit room he didn't recognize. A rhythmic beep to his left pulled his attention, the neon green light bright in the dimness. His brain registered the heart monitor before realization set in place. He groaned, distressed and disappointed. His immune system had failed to kick that infection in the ass like he hoped it would.

Movement on his right caught his attention. He turned in time to catch Newt and Minho—Newt resting his head against Minho's shoulder-stirring awake. It took them both a moment to notice Thomas's sheepish stare and then another moment longer to realize what that meant.

They scrambled to their feet in a flurry of limbs.

"Tommy!" "Thomas!"

"You're awake!" They cried.

"You had me worried you git!"

"Geez, you can't get sick without the dramatics, can you?" Minho teased half-heartedly.

"Your fever was dangerously high," Newt said, the worry still etched in his eyes. "This is why I don't want any of us getting sick. It's dangerous!"

"How are you feeling?"

Thomas flashed them a placating smile. He felt better than he did all day. He was still sick and frail; his throat continued to ache, but his stomach grumbled in hunger for the first time today. He didn't notice he hadn't eaten anything at all that day.

"Better," He croaked. "Starving."

Newt and Minho physically settled.

"Good that," the blond sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, the relief flowing off him in waves.

Minho sat back in his chair, just as grateful. "You give me tachycardia." He admitted with a pout.

Thomas barked out a croaky laugh, much to their surprise.

"Sorry," He chuckled. "Were you guys here all this time?"

"Of course!" Newt frowned in disbelief. "We wouldn't dream of leaving you alone."

"You needed us." Minho added.

"Here," Newt handed Thomas a tray of jell-o and a plastic cup filled with water. "Eat up. It's three in the mornin', you won't be getting breakfast for a while. We can talk more after you eat."

Newt and Minho each gave him a kiss then sat back to eat their own jell-o. Thomas smiled to himself, moved by their devotion, but also happy. They loved him so dearly.

* * *

 **Questions? Comments? Critics!  
Please leave a review!  
I'd love to hear feedback on this.**


	10. Side Story III: Newt's Sick Day

**The Maze Runner** [trilogy] (C) James Dashner

 _FILLER UPDATE. Do you guys get upset when I update side stories or are they all amusing?_

 _I've been doing a lot of prompt requests on tumblr and participating in Thominho Week this October so updates for Tribulations and Nightmare are going to be slower than they already are. I'm debating about uploading my Disney/Fairytale Parodies for TMR on here... but chances are, I probably will because why the fuck not?_

 **Warning(s):** _Typos probably. Minho being a shank. (in a good way)_

* * *

 _ **Side Story III: Newt's Sick Day**_

* * *

To Minho and Thomas, Newt was like a ray of sunshine. He wasn't necessarily an overly optimistic kind of guy or saw the world through rose tinted glasses. In fact, Newt was rather solemn. He had a tendency of being grounded and wasn't afraid to tell them when they were being stupid or not. Sometimes, Newt got into moods where it felt like a dark, heavy cloud was following in his wake. Thomas hated those times, it made him feel like all was wrong in the world.

Newt was their stability. He would wake up in the morning, dress in the silence and kiss them goodbye. Every day, He would send them a text to get them moving if they hadn't already. He would meet up with Minho in-between morning practice and classes, and bring him a light snack. He would call up Thomas if the boy didn't respond to his text and wait for them outside of Professor Janson's class when he could.

Newt was routine. He was safe. He was comfortable. He was the sun that rose high and bright in the sky. When the sun was cloudy, the world just didn't seem right.

When Thomas woke up that Wednesday morning, something felt wrong. Gloomy. At first he thought it was literal, the curtains were drawn over the only window in the room, casting a dark enough atmosphere to keep sleep going. His smart phone lay dark on the desk, no blinking light to alert him of a message or the shrill ringing of an incoming call. The clock on the wall read 10:00 AM and the birds outside chirped to a bright, beautiful morning, yet the cool darkness in the dorm made Thomas uncomfortable.

Perhaps it had something to do with the sizeable lump on Newt's bed?

Thomas flew into motion. His scalp nearly grazed the bottom edge of the higher bunk as he hopped haphazardly out of his blanket cocoon. He crashed spectacularly next to the single bed, startling the prone form wrapped comfortably like a burrito.

Newt's misty eyes peered down at him, his blond hair a knotted mess, his nose tinged pink.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" He complained, his voice odd. "You gave me a heart attack."

Thomas regained his bearings and sat up on the floor. He gave Newt a quick once over, taking note of the puffiness of his eyes, the redness of his nose and the nasally way his voice sounded. It meant only one thing and Thomas wasn't happy about it.

"It's 10 AM, don't you have classes at 8?"

Newt's groan cut off into a fit of dry coughs. Thomas scrambled to the mini fridge for a water bottle. He grabbed a plastic cup from the cabinet and hurriedly poured the poor blond a drink before rejoining his side. He watched as Newt drank his fill then fell back onto the bed with a dissatisfied sigh. He gave Thomas a look he wasn't sure he could read in the dark.

"Don't you dare say it."

Thomas's brows raised in surprise. "I'm not going to."

Newt's expression turned defiant. "Tommy, I'm being serious. If you say it, Minho's going to find out and he won't let me live it down for the rest of the month. You remember how long it took to get Minho to stop making fun you for getting sick? It'll be worse for me because it's _me._ "

He grimaced. Oh yes, Thomas did remember. Minho wouldn't let it go for two and a half-weeks after he was released from the hospital. He had no doubt Newt would get teased about this for days to come, maybe even months. But more importantly, he was surprised. Minho didn't know Newt was sick?

"So Minho doesn't know you're—"

"Tommy!" Newt hissed, eyes narrowing.

Thomas rolled his eyes. He thought Newt's aversion to being called sick was cute usually, but sometimes the blond's stubbornness drove him up the wall. He saddled Newt a deadpanned expression that penetrated the dimness of their room. The older boy pouted beneath his gaze.

"You're sick." Newt huffed sulkily. "Didn't Minho wonder why you were still in bed? You're always up before him."

Newt twisted in his sheets to face Thomas properly. He sniffed, wincing at the horrid stuffiness in his nostrils. "He was late for practice. He didn't have time to wonder."

"How lucky of you," Thomas hummed. He set down the water bottle and reached for his phone. "I'm calling him."

"Tommy no!"

Newt yanked Thomas into the bed with enough force to disorient the poor boy. He flipped the brunet onto his back then straddled him, pinning down his arms in an attempt to keep Thomas from struggling. Newt was deceptively strong despite his appearance. Minho liked to joke that when it came to arm wrestling, Newt would always be the victor. He wasn't wrong.

"Don't tell him!" He pleaded. "He's going to want to help but that's only going to delay my recovery. I can get better on my own if you just let me rest, okay Tommy? Please don't tell Minho."

Thomas testily pulled on his arms. Newt's grip tightened against his wrists, a testament to the blond's mulishness. He wasn't going to let Thomas go until he agreed.

He exhaled heavily. "He's going to know when you don't show up for class, Newt."

"That's fine. You'll be there to tell him I'm okay."

"And Professor Janson? You're already struggling in his class."

"Everyone is," Newt chuckled softly. He gently shifted so that his head rested against Thomas's chest, his ear pressed against the boy's breast. The soft rhythmic thump of Thomas's heart brought Newt comfort against the pounding in his head.

"I'll get my notes from you. You write better than Minho anyway." He murmured sleepily.

Thomas smiled lazily. He ran his fingers through those golden messy locks, enjoying the way the blond's body melted under his touch. Newt's eyes fluttered shut, his breathing evening out.

"Don't fall asleep," Thomas whispered, a little regretful. "Or you'll trap me under your weight."

"Shouldn' be so comfortable then, Tommy." Newt slurred sleepily. "Better than my bed…"

Thomas chuckled. He continued tracing soft patterns through Newt's hair until the boy fell into a peaceful sleep. With painstaking gentleness, he carefully escaped Newt's clutches and quietly set about to get ready.

* * *

He waited for Minho outside of Professor Janson's class. He spent most of the lunch hour collecting assignments from Newt's classes for the boy to do. Minho had been unsurprisingly difficult to catch today, but Thomas wasn't worried. Newt was still sleeping when he left and judging by Minho's normal amount of explicative in his most recent text, the track stare was still oblivious about their blond haired boyfriend's condition. It wouldn't belong now until he discovered the truth, but, luckily, as far as Thomas knew, Newt didn't seem to have a fever. He was already doing three times better than when Thomas had gotten sick. If anything, the boy seemed to have a simple head cold—nothing lots of rest, water and soup couldn't fix!

He felt the collision before he registered the pain. Thomas crashed into the wall in an ungrateful display of flailing limbs, the back of his head thudding hard against the cement wall. Lights dotted his eyes before reality whooshed back into place. He was on the ground, his notes scattered everywhere. The back of his head throbbed angrily, a part of him bewildered by what happened, but his eyes zeroed in on a burly build marching past him into Rat Man's classroom.

Gally kept his nose in the air, his eyes focused solely on his destination, but Thomas could see the smug expression on his rival's face. Gally must have shoved him into the wall.

 _What an asshole!_ He seethed.

Thomas scrambled to gather his notes. He had just gotten to his feet when Minho finally joined him in the hall, breathless and holding a half-eaten rice krispy treat.

"Dear god can Coach Jorge talk!' The Asian gasped. "Sorry I missed lunch, coach wouldn't let me go." Minho righted himself once he caught his breath and shoved the last bit of the sugary treat into his mouth. He gave Thomas a quick once over as he chewed, a frown marring his features. "You okay? You look like you're about to jump some pathetic shank and where's Newt? Class is about to start."

Thomas steeled himself. He cleared his throat. "Newt's sick so he's not coming in today."

"Newt's sick?" The boy echoed, disbelieving. Thomas nodded. The concern immediately washed onto Minho's face. "What the klunk are we doing here then!? We should be with him! Nurse him back to health! Newt is _sick_ and we're in class?! _Learning?!_ What kind of boyfriends are we?!"

Minho made to turn back straight for the dorm but Thomas clutched his bicep, stilling the athlete. He wasn't strong by any means—in fact he was weaker than the both of them—but Minho was receptive to the boy's touch. He gave the brunet a petulant look, already knowing what he was going to say.

"This is exactly the reason why Newt didn't tell you he was sick. He needs us to take good notes today, Minho. It's just a head cold, he'll be okay. All he needs is rest and you won't be giving it to him if you try to pamper him!"

"You weren't complaining when I pampered you."

"Yes I was!"

Minho opened his mouth in retort, but found he had nothing to say. He snapped it shut, a childish pout forming on his lips. He released a sigh through his nose and gave Thomas a curt nod in defeat. Thomas flashed him a grateful smile. They stepped into Janson's class without another word, both wishing they could be with their blond boyfriend back at the dorm.

* * *

Thomas's day was shorter than Minho's. No matter how much he protested, Thomas sent the athlete to his next class with the promise of updating him on Newt's condition. It didn't satisfy him, but it was enough to keep Minho from ditching the rest of his classes. Thomas doubted Minho would go to his afternoon practice though.

Newt was still in bed when Thomas returned that afternoon. He was propped against a throne of pillows he had stolen from their beds, a cup of banana flavored yogurt nursed in his hands. He was invested in a movie on Netflix, a box of tissues was placed on the desk beside him and their small garbage can nearly overflowing with said tissues stood just underneath the desk.

"Hey," Thomas greeted with a smile. He dumped Newt's workload on the desk, wincing slightly as it rattled under its weight. (It wasn't so much because it was heavy, but rather Thomas had dropped it from an unnecessary height.) His smile turned sheepish at Newt's stare. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize to me. You'll be the one paying for that if it breaks." He chided. He lowered the volume on the TV then turned to Thomas inquisitively. "How did Minho take it?"

"Oh he's upset." Newt groaned. "I'm positive he's going to skip afternoon practice just to see you."

"That bloody idiot."

Thomas joined Newt on the bed, letting the blond lean his head against his shoulder.

"How are you feeling?"

"Loads better." He murmured. "With some medicine and more rest, I'll be good as new by tomorrow."

"For someone who gets sick a lot, you don't stay sick for long." The brunet chuckled.

"It takes a strong virus to keep me down, Tommy."

Thomas hummed, his mind wandering back to last semester when Newt was sick for weeks with that horrible virus. It still kept him up most nights. The possibility of what could have been haunting him. Newt's movements snapped him out of his reverie. A pair of soft limps pressed against his temple before Newt climbed out of bed to examine his workload. His brows rose into his hairline. He lucked out this time, his assignments weren't at all complicated.

"You're done for the day right?"

Thomas nodded, watching Newt's movements for any sign of fatigue or discomfort. He didn't seem to be bothered. In fact, he looked a lot better now than when he did this morning. Thomas couldn't help but feel relieved and a little envious. Newt was incredibly lucky he could bounce back from colds so quickly.

"Good that. Help me with this then." Newt said. He dropped half of his assignments into Thomas's lap. "Minho's going to try to spoil me when he gets here, so it's best we get this out of the way before then."

Thomas groaned, earning him a playful eye roll from the blond.

"Yeah, yeah. Consider this a favor you can cash in on when I'm feeling better." He planted another tender kiss on Thomas's cheeks. "Now, let's get to work!"

* * *

They had just finished when Minho came barreling into the dorm. He scooped up Newt in his arms and hugged the blond so tight Thomas winced just watching them. Newt struggled against him for air and barely managed to suck in a breath when Minho planted his lips against his.

"Minho!" He shrieked, shoving the athlete away. "I'm bloody sick you slinthead! I could be contagious! Blimey, what if _you_ get sick because of that?!"

"Dammit Newt, why didn't you tell me this morning? I could have gotten you medicine or soup or something!"

"I'm fine Minho." Newt sighed. "All I needed was an off day from all the stress. That's it."

"Good that." The athlete huffed. "And you're gonna keep relaxing because I'm here now. Thomas and I are going to take good care of you." He wheeled Newt around toward the bed and urged the blond to hop inside.

With an exasperate sigh, Newt crawled into the mattress and allowed Minho to draw the covers to his chin.

"Now, we're going to get you medicine and soup and you're going to lay here, resting, until we come back."

Minho ignored the pout of protest on Newt's face. He grabbed Thomas's hand with surprising tenderness and led him toward the door.

"We'll be back Newt!" He called over his shoulder. "And don't you dare move from that bed!"

Thomas caught sight of Newt sticking his tongue out at Minho's back before he disappeared beyond the door. Minho huffed in disapproval, aware of Newt's childishness. He gave Thomas a silent, challenging glare, daring the boy to laugh. Thomas smiled innocently.

"You shanks and your illnesses." He grumbled. "Always giving me tachycardia." He stormed down the hall, dragging Thomas in tow.

* * *

 **Questions? Comments? Critics?  
Anybody interested in reading those prompt parodies?**  
 **Leave a review!**


	11. Side Story V: Halloween Shopping

_Ahhhhh! I've got the whole timeline messed up now because I strayed off track from my original notes! My apologies for the double updates in side stories, I was supposed to update this one before Minho's sick day, but then I remembered you can replace chapters in FF so I did._

 _This chapter is a short one, I mostly just wanted to write something fluffy. There's also a good chance it'll have a continuation, just to talk about the Halloween Party. I'll be sure to add it properly if it ever comes up._

* * *

 _ **Side Story V: Halloween Shopping**_

* * *

Halloween was two weeks away and Minho was dishonored by his boyfriend's lack of preparation. He dragged them to their local Halloween store with the stubborn intent of getting them costumes.

"Minho, we're not going to let you waste money on us like this." Newt chided the moment they were inside. "Tommy and I will pay for our own costumes. We can afford that much."

Minho scoffed. He waved a hand carelessly. "Newt, Newt, my dear sweet silly shuck face," He drawled.

Newt's face turned into a dangerous scowl, unimpressed with the boy's tone. Thomas had a hard time trying not to laugh.

"I'm going to buy your Halloween costume whether you want me to or not. Now you and Thomas go grab something and show me what it is! If I'm buying, I have a say!"

"That's exactly why we rather bloody pay for it ourselves!"

Thomas laughed. He followed Newt through the aisle, aimlessly eyeing the store's collection of costumes.

"I swear to God, Tommy, if Minho wants us to dress up like sexy bunnies this year, I'm goin' to shove this sword so far up his bloody arse he'll feel it in his stomach."

Thomas grinned. "Thank you for the visual, Newt." He plucked the plastic katana from the blond's hands. "I'm sure he won't make us dress like that. He wants us to be scary not… _sexy._ "

"Sexy is good." Minho grinned. He plopped a black cat headband on top of Thomas' head and snickered. "That's hot. Imagine Thomas naked with a leather leash and those ears."

Thomas face burst in heat.

"Knock it off! He cried. He shoved the black cat headband into Minho's hard chest, both boys laughing. "I thought you said you wanted us to be scary!"

"I do. That doesn't mean I can't tease ya, shank. Although, I _wouldn't_ mind the two of you dressing sexy if that's what you want."

"Ugh."

"Hey shanks, how 'bout this?"

Newt pulled out a costume squished inside a plastic bag. The man on the picture was dressed like a cowboy riding an inflatable horse… or bull. Or a creature from hell. Thomas couldn't tell which.

"Sexy right?" Newt grinned.

Minho gaped the blond with an expression of pure horror.

"Put that down and burn it!"

"I don't know Min, it's kind of hot." Thomas played along. He traced the length of the image with a finger and gave the boy a sultry look. "I can see you rocking that sexy cowboy look."

Minho's flabbergasted expression whirled on him, all his humor replaced by true horror.

Thomas and Newt laughed again.

"No, no, no!" The boy frowned. He snatched the offensive costume away from Newt and shoved it deep into the far reaches of Narnia, never to be seen again.

"You slint-heads need to get serious! Pick a good costume or I'm breaking up with all fo you."

"Don't be such a baby!" Newt rolled his eyes, his expression playful. "We'll get serious."

Minho huffed in annoyance but amiably nudged the blond on his way to the next aisle.

Thomas went in a different direction, deciding on a costume. He scanned the rows of potential costumes with a critical eye. He pulled out a few possibilities: a pirate, a video game character, a very disturbing skeletal joker get up. Jeez, the mask on that thing was enough to give him nightmares.

With a heavy sigh, he returned his selections to the rack. Nothing he picked seemed exciting enough.

He made to find Newt and Minho when a black and gold costume caught his attention.

"What's this?" He pulled out the pick from the rack and examined the costume. It was meant to be Hades, the Greek God of the Underworld.

Thomas grinned.

"Hey Minho!"

He turned hurriedly and smacked hard into Newt's chest.

"Ugh!"

"Sorry Tommy," the blonde chuckled.

He grabbed the package from Thomas' hands before the boy could regain his bearings and examined it with a curious eye. His eyebrows rose into his hairline. "That's ironic. I was just going to show you the one I got."

From the shopping bag. Newt pulled out the package. Zeus, the King of the Gods was written in white, bold letters across the image, the man dressed as the god posing proud and regal. Thomas beamed.

"Are we going themed then?"

"I already bought mine so, I guess." Newt shrugged.

"This is great! I'm buying it!"

"Hold on shuck face," Minho threw his hands around Thomas' shoulders from behind, enveloping the shorter boy into an unsuspecting embrace. He took the costume from his hands and stared. He glanced at Newt's way, eyeing the blond's chosen costume with a thoughtful expression.

He suddenly pouted.

"I said I was going to buy you a costume!"

"And I told you I was going to buy my own." Newt retaliated, slipping the package back into the bag. "Besides, Tommy hasn't bought his yet. Just buy his and let's go home. I'm bloody starvin'."

"But I—" Thomas tried, but the older boy pulled away from him, costume still in hand.

"Nope, I'm buying it Thomas. I saw a Poseidon outfit before so we'll go as the big three." He rubbed his chin in thought. "Maybe we can ask everyone to go as the Greek Gods for the party too. That'll win us the prize for sure."

"If Gally isn't Hephaestus, I'm breaking up with you."

"You can't use that against me Thomas. That's my trick." Minho snickered.

"It works better with Tommy. I actually felt worried." Newt winked. He gave each of them a kiss on the lips before heading for the exit. "I'll be outside. Don't make me wait or you're both in the dog house."

"Yeah, yeah!" Minho grabbed Thomas' hand with a grin. "C'mon, help me find all the gods. We're going as the Greeks and I'm not taking no for an answer."

Thomas laughed. He pulled Minho down the aisle, just as excited to gather the rest of the pantheon.


	12. Part VIII

**Disclaimer:** _The Maze Runner_ (trilogy) (c) by James Dashner

 _I'm having a lot of internet connectivity issues this past week. It was nearly impossible updating this on my computer so I had to borrow my mom's computer until my brother figures out what the fuck is going on with my wifi._

 _There's a time skip in this chapter (about a month) so if it feels disjointed, that's why. Updates will be a bit slower now that you guys have finally caught up with my AO3 readers._

 **Warning(s):** Typos probably. Mentions of sex. Impending jealousy. Popcorn.

* * *

 _ **Part VIII**_

* * *

He hated to admit it, but watching his boyfriends get lovey-dovey when they thought he wasn't around irked him. It wasn't so much that they did it behind his back—Newt and Minho were very honest about their feelings and that was perfectly fine with Thomas-it was because of the way Thomas felt after walking in on such intimacy that annoyed him. There was a certain gentleness they had for each other that Thomas didn't feel when it was the three of them. They cared about him, yes, but it didn't feel nearly as genuine when it was just Newt and Minho.

Minho was considerate of Newt when they were alone. Thomas once caught Minho giving Newt a bigger share of the last piece of strawberry shortcake despite knowing it would be a long while until they had more again. Newt gave Minho a lot more leeway when it came to the things he had done wrong. When they made love—and Thomas would accidentally walk in on them—it was slow and methodical. Minho would rock his hips in ways Thomas thought he was incapable of doing and Newt was ever so mindful of all of Minho's sweet spots.

Thomas saw none of that.

Newt scolded him like a mother would a child and Minho would sometimes bully him playfully.

Sex with them was very much the same. If Thomas was giving, Newt always had a thing or two to say. Things that worked for Minho didn't work when Thomas did it, even though he was certain he was doing them exactly the way he had seen Minho do it, but Newt was never satisfied. In fact, he tended to be a little agitated whenever Thomas tried to emulate Minho. When Thomas was receiving, Newt was a lot more dominating. He wasn't as bad as Minho, who tended to be rough and almost barbaric, but he was definitely a lot less forgiving. Sex with Minho was animalistic. It was taxing physically and Thomas often times came out with more cuts than when he went in. Sex with Newt was like psychological warfare, it was mentally exhausting and he lost _every freaking time_.

It was enough to make Thomas insecure about his position in their relationship.

It was worse during their threesomes. Thomas suspected Minho was a closet sadist. He was already a bastard when it came to their one-on-one time, but in a threesome, it was like Minho was three times as worse. He had a habit of biting Thomas's flesh in the midst of their ministrations or scratching the ever living hell out of him without warning. He'd dug his nails deep enough to draw beads of blood once or twice.

Honestly, Thomas was okay with it. If that was what Minho needed to climb over the edge then he would be willing to be the boy's scratching post, but when it happened every single time of their love making? Thomas wasn't sure he could deal with it. Not only that, did they honestly need to restrain him? It wasn't like he planned on running away. Restraining him felt more like a hindrance in their threesome. He was often the filling in their sandwich; Minho would ram him from the back and Thomas would thrust into Newt that was how they usually went. Sometimes, he would pleasure Newt enough to reach orgasm before Minho did, and that alone was enough to elate Thomas for the moment, but lately, Newt hadn't wanted to be on the receiving end. He seemed to want to tie up Thomas in various creative ways then fuck his throat raw. They would switch from time to time, so that it was Minho trying to choke him and Newt trying to ram him down.

It seemed all they really wanted to do was get their fill of him and toss him aside.

If he had to be honest with himself, Thomas didn't mind rough sex. What he did mind was feeling like a toy for his boyfriends. Minho and Newt were certainly making him feel like he was nothing more than a glorified dildo.

Watching them now, as Newt microwaved a bag of popcorn for their movie night and Minho cracked a joke about their choice of film, made Thomas's blood boil. He felt he was being petty. It wasn't common for them to have an assignment free Friday night, but Thomas couldn't quell the bad temperament simmering within his veins. Minho and Newt had a breakfast date that morning while Thomas overslept and was late for his first class. They ate lunch together while Thomas endured thirty minutes of Rat Man lecturing him on his sub-par essay, which received the highest grade in the class despite one minor error. As for dinner, Thomas ate alone because Minho had track practice and Newt wanted to add the finishing touches on his project due next week.

Yes, Thomas felt incredibly bitter in the presence of his roommates and, sadly, he felt having a movie night with them was not something he wanted to do. So instead of joining Minho on the floor, he climbed into the bed and turned his back on the two of them like a petulant child. He was content with glaring holes into the wall for the duration of their movie night when instead of hearing the tell-tale sounds of a movie starting or the popping of kernel, he heard silence. He resisted the urge to turn around. He already felt like a child in his temperament, he didn't want to see the looks on their faces because of it.

The silence persisted for another few seconds until he felt the mattress dip under the weight of one of his roommates. A hand gently brushed aside a strand of his bangs in what he guessed was meant to be a placating gesture.

"What's wrong Tommy? Are you sick?"

Newt probably meant to sound concerned, but Thomas heard the disappointment laced in his question. He couldn't tell if it was from the idea of him getting sick despite knowing how much Newt hated them getting ill or if it was because he was being a brat in the middle of what was supposed to be a great night with lovers. Being so uncertain made him all the more bitter.

"No," He bit out, his body tensing. "I'm not sick, I'm just in a bad mood."

"On movie night?" Minho this time, and he most certainly sounded annoyed. "Oh come on Thomas! Don't be a shuck face. Get out of your funk and watch the movie with us."

Thomas curled tighter into himself, trying his best to retrain the boiling rage inside.

"How are we supposed to cuddle together if you're going to lay around moping?"

Thomas whirled on them like lightning, his brown eyes blazing in fury. "The same way you do when I'm not around, Minho! Don't pretend like you actually give a klunk if I'm here or not. I'm only convenient when the frustration is too much, remember?"

Newt frowned, taken aback by the boy's outburst. "What the bloody hell are you talking about, Tommy?"

Thomas eyed the confused blond then the stunned expression on Minho's face. He turned his back on them once more, having no desire to explain his concerns.

Minho's surprised morphed into annoyance.

"Don't snap at me and not explain yourself! What the hell is your problem Thomas? You've been pissy all day and I'm starting to get really tired of it."

The brunet barked out a nasty laugh. He missed the way Newt gripped the edge of his mattress or the thinly veiled look of unease in Minho's eyes. He turned back to the Asian, his expression contorted into a bitter scowl.

"Sorry if my attitude is getting on your nerves, Minho. Why don't I do all of us a favor and leave? That way, you guys won't have to worry about me being in the way."

He made to climb out of the bunk, but felt Newt's hand thud against his chest. He pushed the younger male back into the bunk as Minho and Newt eyed him with piercing eyes.

"Tommy, what are you talking about?" The blond demanded, keeping him rooted in place. "When did we ever say you were in the way?"

"Stop pretending like you care Newt! You two obviously don't!"

"Are you kidding me?!" Minho snapped. "What the—"

Newt silenced the older male with a dark glare. He turned back to Thomas, who glowered darkly into the sheets in a childish act of defiance. They would have thought it adorable if it didn't concern them so much.

"Tell us why you think we don't care."

Thomas grimaced. He didn't want to have to think about it again, but Newt was a stubborn bastard. He wasn't going to let him go otherwise.

"You two treat each other differently than when you're with me," He began, annoyed with his dejected tone. The last thing he wanted was for them to know he was hurting. Being angry was a safer emotion. "You guys are tender together, loving. When you have sex, it's sweet and romantic, but when it's me, it's rough and vicious." He scowled again. He stared into their eyes with a penetrating gaze, silently challenging them to prove him wrong. "It's not fair."

Minho and Newt exchanged expressions before turning back to Thomas.

"That's not our fault though."

Thomas felt his blood freeze just as Newt shot Minho another judgmental glare. (Minho wilted under the blond's gaze, but it wasn't enough to make him retract his words.)

"What he means is, we're rough because that's what _you want_ , Tommy."

"I wouldn't be upset if that was something I wanted, Newt!"

Newt heaved a heavy sigh. He gave Minho a pleading look before shifting to the side slightly, giving Thomas a better view of the Track Star on the floor.

"Listen Thomas, I don't know if you've noticed, but your brain gets in the way a lot when it comes to sex. You over think everything and that's a problem. In fact," Minho gave Newt a meaningful look before turning dark eyes back to the boy in question. "There was a time Newt and I thought you were miserable being with us because of how distracted you were when it came to sex. But then, we realized you weren't disinterested, you were just thinking." He frowned suddenly, as though he were loath to admit the reality of his words. "We came to the consensus you weren't getting enough pleasure out of us, so we came up with an experiment."

"An experiment?" Thomas deadpanned.

The boys nodded solemnly.

"That's great. Enlighten me."

The sarcasm wasn't appreciated, but Thomas could careless at this point. He wanted to hear what half-assed methods they came up with for treating him this way.

"I get your pissed, especially since we didn't tell you about it, but you can't say it didn't freaking work. We spent two months on this experiment and compared notes every chance we got just so we understood what got you off and what didn't."

"For instance," Newt continued before Thomas could interrupt. "We figured out you definitely prefer threesomes as opposed to individual sex. Even if we weren't involved directly, you were more aroused with the three of us in the room than when one of us wasn't." He lifted up a second finger. "Secondly, you were more likely to respond to physical pain than if no pain was involved, as was evident in the way Minho would bite you."

"Which is all great and kinky but damn it Thomas, you are the absolute worst person when it comes to cleaning your injuries!"

"Thirdly," Newt continued, raising another finger on his mental checklist. "Your orgasm came quicker when you were being scolded than praised. In all, your orgasms lasted longer under harsher treatment than when we were being gentle."

"Need I remind you the one time we had a threesome and you were the only one who didn't cum despite being in the middle?" Minho added bitterly.

"Can't you let that go?" Thomas pleaded. He could still feel the utter mortification he felt from that horrible instance.

"No, I can't. That was humiliating for everyone and it still haunts my dreams to this day." Minho huffed.

"What we're _trying_ to say is the only way to make you feel good during sex is with lots of pain and domination."

"You guys can't be serious."

"Speak for yourself, it's your body shuckface."

"Think about the last time we had sex." Newt started. "How long was your orgasm? And why was that?"

Thomas thought back to their last sexual encounter about two weeks ago. It had been around the time he began to notice their treatment of him. That time, Minho had tied him his wrists behind his back whilst Newt rammed into him with enough force, it warranted a noise complaint from the neighbors. That was also the time Minho nearly choked him with his hazardous thrusting. Although, his orgasm did blind him for a good thirty seconds (and the trails of semen Minho pumped out of him felt never ending despite how sensitive his dick became).

Maybe they had a point. Thomas wasn't a typical lover. He needed pain to keep him focused and powerful thrusts to push him over the edge. It was no wonder Minho and Newt sought solace amongst themselves. It seemed stressful trying to tend to Thomas's needs.

His trail of thought lead to another can of worms. If he was such a hard lover to please, why did they—

He heard their long suffering sighs before he felt Newt's hands pull him out of the bunk. He was on the floor before he could blink, situated in between Newt's legs and held against the blond's chest. Minho grabbed the bowl of popcorn abandoned on the counter before joining them. He rested himself against Thomas, pinning the brunet between them like a captive. Newt pressed PLAY on the remote and settled against the wall of pillows meant for the three of them.

"Stop thinking for once and enjoy the movie, okay?" Newt implored, holding him close. "We'll talk more about this later, I promise."

Thomas sighed. He really didn't have much of a choice in the matter, but he would deal. After all, it wasn't everyday he got to spend quality time with his boyfriends and if they cared enough about his needs to tire themselves just to satisfy him, the most he could do was sit through a movie with them without complaint.

* * *

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	13. Part IX

**Disclaimer:** _The Maze Runner_ [trilogy] (C) James Dashner

 _Can't remember if I had this edited or not. Shit._

 **Warning(s):** Typos, def. Short chapter - sorry!

* * *

 ** _Part IX_**

* * *

Thomas woke up to the amused smile of Teresa hanging over him.

"Wha-?!" He jerked away, banging his shoulder against the wall.

She laughed, slipping off the bed. "Calm down, it's just me. You left the door open so I thought you were awake."

"What are you doing here?"

Teresa shrugged, looking bored. "No one told me they had plans today so I decided to see what you were up to. We don't get to see each other much, Tom. It's sad." She gestured to the door, still half-open, and said, "Want to grab lunch? We have a lot to catch up on."

Thomas smiled. "Yeah, sure."

* * *

Hanging out with Teresa brought back fond memories to Thomas. They'd been friends since elementary, but drifted apart during the four years they were away from each other. Teresa's appearance in WCKD U. had been an unexpected but pleasant surprise. Thomas wasn't sure what she was studying, they didn't really bother with things like that. They only talked about their hopes and wishes for the future and how her relationship with Aris fared. (Thomas didn't really like the guy, but he supposed he would never accept any guy she dated.) Even now, as Thomas munched on a grilled chicken wrap and Teresa picked at her French fries, their conversation wheeled back around to Aris and their friends.

"I have no classes with him this semester, but he promised to make better effort in sparing free time for us."

"I told that to the guys too."

Teresa chewed on a french fry, her blue eyes inquisitive. "What's with you and them anyway?"

Thomas felt his heart skip a beat. "What do you mean?"

"Are you dating Newt or Minho?" She dipped her fry into the small container of ketchup. "I always thought they were dating each other but Rachel said she saw Minho get really cozy with you the other day. Did they break up?"

"Uh, not exactly."

She frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He cleared his throat, surprisingly uncomfortable. Teresa was an opened minded girl, had always been, but Thomas wasn't sure exactly how far that extended. He didn't want to trouble her, or worse, didn't want to lose her friendship over something like this. Still, not telling her was something he didn't want to do. They were childhood friends after all.

"It's… complicated." He said instead, wincing.

She smirked. "I'm listening."

"Alright but… don't freak out." He pleaded.

She sat up straighter and gave a small nod to show he had her undivided attention. Thomas took a deep breath, his hands trembling.

"I'm dating them both. Together."

Teresa's brows rose to her hairline.

"You mean like a polyamorous relationship? I didn't know you were into that."

"I'm not—not really—but…" He shrugged, unable to find the words. "I don't know. They asked me and I said yes."

She laughed, startling the boy.

"You haven't changed at all. You're still just as curious as when we were kids."

He blushed, embarrassed but relieved. She didn't seem at all bothered by his poly-relationship. She eyed him then, blue eyes searching his face for something he wasn't sure she would find. Her smile turned soft, a strange tenderness lighting her eyes.

"Are you okay?" You seem kind of… on edge lately. Are you… are you happy with them?"

"Yes." The word slipped from his lips without hesitance. Thomas found it was the truth. He was happy with Minho and Newt. He only wished they'd been honest with him about their experimentation, but honesty was a two-way streak. He should have confronted them sooner.

"It's just…" Ugh, did he want to talk about it? He felt the girl nudge his shoulder, a silent cajoling to continue. Thomas worried his bottom lip, wincing at the freshly made cut on his lip. "We've been having trouble in our, uh, intimate life. I found out that they've been experimenting with me in the hopes of fixating it."

Teresa nodded. "Okay, and?"

Thomas worried his lip again. "They did this for two months without telling me. And I just… ugh, I don't know. I don't know how to feel." He confessed. He ran a hand through his hair, his heart racing in his chest. "On the one hand, I'm angry they didn't tell me, but on the other it's my fault for not confronting them sooner. They did this for my benefit, to make _me_ feel good during sex but…" he trailed off, his leg bounding against the pavement.

Concern washed over Teresa's face as he ranted, her French fries forgotten in her hand.

"They're different with each other than they are with me, Teresa. They're… they're _cute_ together, like an actual couple in love." Another hand brushed through his brown locks. His knee bobbed up and down. "I—I don't know. I feel like when it's us together, it's all about the sex and who cums; who doesn't. It's great, it's exciting, but it's painful and lonely and—and—but when's it's them together, it's not about sex. It's… its love and romance. It's intimacy. I—I just—I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm rambling."

"Thomas," she pressed a gentle hand against his knee, stopping his erratic bouncing. She gazed into his eyes, the worry palpable on her face. He felt bad again for knowing he was on the reason she looked so distraught.

"Thomas, hey, if you're so troubled about this, why don't you talk to them? You shouldn't have to feel this jealous about a relationship you're in." She reached out and rubbed her thumb tenderly along the contour of his cheekbone. "Just talk to them, okay?" She gave him a sweet, motherly smile. "That's all. Just talk to them. No more hiding. Alright?"

He let out a shaky breath and smiled weakly. "Thanks Teresa." It was easier said than done.

* * *

He walked her back to the two-bedroom dorms and watched her go. He lamented not having any classes with Teresa. They barely saw each other as it was, at least if they had one class together, he would have had that to look forward to. With the rest of the day on his own, Thomas turned, wondering what he was going to do until Minho's or Newt's arrival later in the afternoon. Saturday practice tended to last longer than usual for Minho, so Thomas didn't expect to see the boy any time soon. As for Newt, he wasn't sure where the boy was or if he really wanted to know.

(Maybe they were together again and left Thomas to sleep in late just for a few hours of alone time. They had a _lovely_ habit of doing that.)

He was halfway down the hall, scowling at the dark turn of his thoughts, when he rammed hard into another person. Books, papers, and pens dropped to the floor with a loud _bang._ Thomas was on his knees before the other person could get their bearings and gathered their scattered papers.

"I'm so sorry," He said, glancing upward. "I was—"

"Being a slinthead." It was Gally. He stood there, tall and proud, with his face screwed up in a disapproving frown. Thomas snapped his mouth shut, his mood souring further.

Gally crouched to grab his books.

"Thanks," He grunted, taking his notebook from Thomas. "How about you watch where you're going next time?"

"Yeah, yeah," Thomas muttered.

The taller boy narrowed his eyes. He snatched his pen away from Thomas, gave the boy a glare and was off without a word, shoulders tense. Thomas rubbed his temples in agitation. He could already feel the migraine coming.

* * *

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	14. Part X

_AN ACTUAL UPDATE OMG_

 **Warning(s):** _You bet your ass it's typos. And other shit, probably._

* * *

 ** _Part X_**

* * *

He needed to tell them, sooner rather than later, but what could he say to them? How to approach the subject? He was uncomfortable with talking about himself so personally, even with his boyfriends.

The migraine intensified with every step he hook. He rubbed his temples in a futile attempt to assuage the pain. He was halfway back to the dorm when someone called his name.

Janson stood by the doorway of his classroom, eyes expectantly on Thomas. The brunet sagged. Of all the days to see the Lit Professor, it had to be on a day he was meant to be off.

"Thomas, glad I could catch you. If you would be so kind as to spare a few minutes of your time?"

"Actually I—"

"It's about your roommates." He added nonchalantly.

Thomas felt his heart stutter.

He followed Janson into the empty classroom, the doors clicking shut behind him.

"It's come to my attention that your studies have been… subpar."

Thomas tensed, the migraine pulsing like a jack hammer in his head.

"I've gotten high grades in all your assignments, Professor."

Janson scrolled to his desk, his movements slow and methodical. He dug into his suitcase and pulled out a pile of papers. He splayed them across the desk for Thomas to see, each assignment obnoxiously lengthy and stained with red ink. The papers bore his name on the upper right corner, his high grade written in the same bloody red ink despite the various commentaries and corrections littering the cover pages.

"I've had the pleasure of teaching you for two semesters now, Thomas. Your earlier works were impeccable." Janson licked his lips, blue eyes steady on the boy. "Yes, you have received the highest grade out of all my students, but your classmates are… shall we say… dumber than dirt." He shrugged, like insulting his students meant nothing to him. Thomas wouldn't be surprised if it didn't. "Unfortunately, this also stems to your roommates."

He tossed a series of packets onto the table, all of them ruined by his notorious red ink. They were worse off than Thomas'. Minho and Newt's name stared back at him from the sheets, their grades just as glaringly bright. He knew they tried hard in his class, but Rat Man's assignments were cruel and unfair to anyone who didn't have a knack for English.

The rush of anger came so unexpectedly, Thomas fell into a chair to keep him from growing dizzy. He rubbed his palms against his tired eyes, his migraine momentarily blinding him.

"Okay," He breathed. His muscles began to tremble. "What are you proposing Professor?"

"Your living arrangements concern me, Thomas. You've become… unwell since the semester started and then there are all these rumors…"

"Rumors?" He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

"It's of no concern what your roommates do on their free time, but when my star pupil begins to hand in horrendous work, one has to wonder." Janson's blue eyes bore deep into Thomas. "Thomas, I understand college is stressful, especially for a prestigious school such as WCKD U., but if you continue to let carnal desires hinder you from work, I'll have no choice but to request a change of rooms with the head of housing."

Thomas bolted from his chair fast as lightning; his hands slammed down hard on the table, the loud _bang_ reverberating off the walls.

"You can't do that!" He hissed through gritted teeth. "I have the highest grade in all of my classes. I've done nothing but pass everything you've given me with flying colors! Minho and Newt don't hinder me in anyway, professor, in fact I think I'm a lot better off living with them than last semester. What I do with my _boyfriends_ is no one's business but mine!"

Jansons's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Boyfriends?"

Thomas straightened, horrified. He hadn't meant to admit that in front of Janson. His heart quickened as anxiety pooled uncomfortably into his chest. The migraine from before pulsed in vengeance.

He took a deep, shaky breath.

"What I do outside your classroom is none of your business. Now, if you will excuse me, I have better things to do with my Saturday."

He hurried out the door without a glance back.

* * *

The anxiety clawed at his insides as he walked, his migraine unbearable. He threw up into a bush the moment he escaped the building and hung over the rail to regain his senses. He tried reaching Newt and Minho, but neither one of seemed inclined on answering their phones.

It made his heart ache.

He didn't know where they were or remember any of their plans for today. The thought of them out together pushed into his mind once or twice.

Bitterness curled his stomach.

He pictured them out for a stroll, the colorful leaves falling around them. He pictured Newt leaning onto Minho, their hands intertwined, smiles on their faces. Their phones would ring, Newt's first then Minho's, but neither of them would reach out to answer because they knew who it was on the other line.

He was being ridiculous and he needed to stop.

He made the long journey back to the dorms, sick to his stomach and sweaty from fever. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and pretend the day had never existed. He wanted to forget about his troubles, his talk with Janson and Teresa's advice.

He just wanted to sleep.

The room was ablaze with light, the TV unbearably loud. Thomas grimaced from the sensory overload. The trickle of nausea returned to his throw, his stomach already churning.

Minho's bright face didn't do anything to alleviate the sickness.

"Hey shank! Welcome home."

He and Newt were cuddling on Newt's bed, wrapped in a throw blanket for warmth and the TV flickering with lights from a movie. The volume had been turned down now that Thomas was home.

The thought of where they were crossed his mind again.

"Where've you been? We wanted to take you somewhere special today."

"I called." He answered monotonously. He stripped off his sweatshirt and crawled into his bunk, grateful for the shade.

He missed the quiet exchange between his boyfriends.

"Tommy—"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"So you're gonna sulk on your bed like a little kid?" Minho scowled, the distaste evident in his tone.

Thomas felt the rage a lit inside him again, the pulsing of his migraine intensifying. He whirled on them, the room spinning. He sent them a scathing glare despite feeling like he could keel over at any second.

"You're starting shit with _me_? ME? After I tried to call and you both ignored me?! Really Minho? What was so important no one could get back to me?!"

"My phone wasn't charged you slinthead." Minho snapped. He gestured to the black phone on the desk, its screen devoid of lights. "And Newt was trying to get his work done. We didn't hear the phone, sorry. Sheesh. What's the big deal?"

Thomas wanted to throw something at him – his phone being the closest thing within reach – but the admission that Minho was with Newt had knocked the anger from his mind. Instead, he wilted like a flower devoid of water, the sickness weighing him down. He didn't want to talk anymore.

He fell back into the mattress and curled onto his side, his muscles heavy and oddly lethargic.

He expected to hear the TV return or the hushed conversations of Minho and Newt talking about him and his childish jealousy. What he got instead was the sound of movement and felt his mattress dip with the weight of another. Minho's arms wrapped around him. His body molded against Thomas like a missing piece to a puzzle and planted a soft kiss against the clammy skin on the boy's neck.

More movement told Thomas Newt had joined them on the bed, the three of them now squeezed onto the bottom bunk.

"You're sick." Minho murmured against his skin. "I'm sorry. I should've seen that."

"It's just a migraine."

"Get some rest then," Newt suggested from behind Minho, his voice gentle. "We could all use a nap."

Minho pulled Thomas into him, burying his nose into the boy's hair.

Thomas drifted to sleep before either of them, lulled into a dreamless slumber by Minho's soft breathing and his warmth.

* * *

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	15. Part XI

_Unedited, I'll upload an edited copy at some point next week. Mind the typos._

 _More miscommunication and brash commentary from the boys in this uvu but don't fret, it gets better._

* * *

 ** _Part XI_**

* * *

His muscles wouldn't stop trembling. The perpetual sickness in his stomach kept Thomas from enjoying breakfast with his lovers. It wasn't usual they spent Sunday morning like this. They had far too much to do, with homework and exams, yet Minho and Newt didn't seem at all bothered by the work load. In fact, they seemed relaxed, almost happy to be able to eat breakfast like this.

Thomas felt envious. He really wanted to enjoy his bacon and eggs too.

Newt nudged him gently. "You okay? You haven't eaten anythin'."

"I'm not hungry."

"In that case—yoink!" Minho grabbed Thomas' plate and dug his fork into the eggs. "No sense in wasting perfectly good food."

"What's on your mind? You've been really out of it since yesterday." Newt frowned. "Does this have anything to do with Friday?"

Thomas felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. He twisted a napkin between his fingers and tried his best to ignore the way his hands trembled harshly or Newt's searching gaze. He licked his cracked lips.

"If… you guys aren't busy… can we… can we have sex today?"

He kept his eyes on the mutilated napkin, picking it apart in nervous energy. He knew he was avoiding the subject, but the thought of bringing it up again; Teresa's advice and Janson's conversation, made his brain hurt. He chanced a glance at the both of them and felt embarrassed at their surprised gaze.

"Okay, if that's what you want."

"I… I wanna be top this time."

Minho's abrupt laughter was like a punch in the gut. He tried to keep the hurt from his expression, but wasn't sure if it was a success.

Newt gave the athlete a lethal glare.

"My bad, I didn't mean to laugh. I just think it's cute." He shrugged. He store a piece of bacon with teeth. "I mean, it's great you wanna pleasure us like that too, but you can't really hold a hard on, Thomas."

Thomas' muscles ached with tension. He tried to keep his face devoid of emotion, but the anxiety and hurt bubbled beneath his mask of indifference. It was impossible to keep his hands from shaking.

"Newt never complained." He mumbled. He felt exhausted again, like the entire ordeal was draining his energy.

Newt's warm hand shrouded his own, long fingers gripping his tightly. The contact eased his anxiety, but not the ache in his chest.

"That's because I'm usually there to keep you hard."

If the world could open up and swallow him whole right about now, Thomas wouldn't have minded. Minho's words pierced through him like knives. And from the looks of it, Newt noticed.

"That's enough, Minho." Newt snapped, his expression hard. "If Tommy wants to top then he tops."

"He can top you maybe." Minho shrugged. "But he's not doing me. I'll get bored."

Newt's grip on Thomas' hand was so tight the circulation was lost. The rest of his body burned hotly in embarrassment and shame. The migraine was back with vengeance.

"I'm sorry?" Newt hissed dangerously. "You'll get bored?!"

Minho's brows furrowed, guilt flashing in his eyes. "That's not what I meant."

"Then tell us what you did mean, Minho. Please clarify for your sake."

"Look, if Thomas wants to take initiation during sex then I'm all for it, but face the facts, he has trouble. He needs pain to get off and, sorry for saying it, but whatever method you're using on him isn't always fool proof, Newt. If Thomas wants to top me, you're gonna have to hurt him to keep him going."

Newt's mouth flew open in retaliation but Thomas rose to his feet, silencing them both.

"Okay," He breathed, voice quiet. "Sorry I asked. Fuck me whichever way you want to."

"No." They answered in unison. Minho and Newt exchanged identical expressions of surprise. Thomas would have found it funny if the whole conversation hadn't made him feel like the worst person in the world.

He frowned, hurt and confused by their refusal. But more importantly, he was tired. If they had sex or not, he planned on sleeping for eternity.

"So none of you want to?"

"No." Minho clarified. "Thomas, look at yourself. You're tired, stressed and you're probably getting sick again. What you need is rest, not sex."

He set down a couple of bills for their breakfast and grabbed his jacket from the bench. "Come on, we're taking you home so you can rest. When you start to feel better again, we'll talk about you topping me, okay?"

Newt helped Thomas into his sweater just as Minho collected their trash. Newt led him to the doors, hands still connected and dragged him along into the chill autumn morning. Minho wrapped a careful arm around his waist and together, they returned to the dorm they called home.

* * *

Thomas slept through his classes that Monday. He ignored his boyfriends' inquiries of his whereabouts and drifted in and out of sleep. He was still in bed when Newt returned and remained so when Minho came back soon after. He ignored their cajoling for food, registered their pleased to get him up and moving. He only moved to expel his body fluids, and despite Newt's hopeful expression, he collapsed in bed soon after.

They spooned him from all sides that night; Newt flushed tight behind him while Minho held him to his chest. It was easier to sleep in their embrace. His dreams were a lot more pleasant as well.

They stayed with him on Tuesday.

When it became apparent Thomas didn't plan on moving for anything, Minho and Newt decided class was just not that important.

Newt refused to let him sleep the day away, however, so he pulled out their literature book and read to him their assigned stories while Minho dug around the kitchenette for something to feed the boy.

"I don't like Edgar Allan Poe," Minho grumbled once Newt had finished their latest assignment. "His work is so damn depressing."

"That is what he's famous for." Thomas quipped.

Newt chuckled. He brushed aside the boy's bangs, his fingers surprisingly cold against Thomas' skin. "How are you feeling?"

"Better."

"Good that," Minho returned to the bed, a bowl of chips in hand. "'Cuz a depressed Thomas is almost as bad as Poe's stories." He held out the bowl to Thomas and couldn't keep the elation from his face when Thomas grabbed a handful of chips.

Newt gave up an exaggerated sigh. "The first time you're eating in two days and it's something grossly unhealthy." He ran his fingers through Thomas' hair again, his touch tender and lingering. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Love me unconditionally?"

"I already do."

Minho gagged. "You two make me sick! So gross. Get a room!"

Thomas grinned. "Love you too, Min."

"Yeah, yeah," the athlete chuckled. "Love you shanks too."

Teresa's advice suddenly filtered into his mind again, sobering his mood.

"Can… can we talk?" He asked hesitantly.

"Anything Tommy."

Thomas bit his lip, tearing up a thin layer of skin. He ignored their grimace and pushed on. "I… get jealous… with the way you two act around each other." His tongue ran over the fresh layer of skin nervously. "Sex feels like a chore for you guys and I don't want you to feel like you have to do any favors for me. Even if I don't cum o-or I can't get hard, I'm-I'm happy just being close to you both. If we could… take it slow or cuddle… I'll be really happy." He glanced up at them, surprised by the emotion on their faces.

Minho heaved a heavy sigh, as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Sorry too. Sorry I've been a selfish shank lately. "Especially for Sunday. I didn't mean to go off like I did, I was just… I was just being a slinthead. Thomas, if you ever wanna top any of us, it's perfectly welcomed."

"And if you want to cuddle, that's fine too." Newt added. "We're sorry for not telling you about our experiment or that we had any right to do that in the first place. Your body is your body. We shouldn' have done it and we're gits for thinkin' it."

"But you figured out what was wrong with me—"

"There's nothing wrong with you." The blond snapped. He smiled in apology. "You're perfect the way you are. You like pain and you need it to orgasm, that doesn't mean there's somethin' wrong with you."

"What's wrong," Newt continue, giving them both a meaningful look. "Is us neglecting your aftercare."

Minho had the audacity to look sheepish despite Thomas' confusion.

"Trust us Thomas, once Newt and I figure out what exactly we have to do with the aftercare stuff, we're gonna make you feel so good, you won't remember that we're all a bunch of bumbling shanks."

Thomas burst into laughter despite the heat of embarrassment. He pulled them both into a tight hug and kissed them tenderly on the head.

"Thank you." He sniffed, surprised by the swelling of emotion in his throat. "I really love you guys."

"We love you too Thomas, but please do us all a favor and take a damn shower!"

* * *

 **Questions? Comments? Critics?  
Leave a review!  
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	16. Part XII

_I didn't plan on writing explicit smut for this story even though I did have a scene in mind that was more important to the plot, but this? This just kind of happened. So I went with it._

 **Warning(s):** First half is smut

* * *

 ** _Part XII_**

* * *

The shower had been a waste in Thomas' opinion. He returned to the dorm after a fifteen minute shower, only to be greeted by the sight of Minho, stark naked and sprawled languidly on Newt's bed, his length hard and dripping from the strokes he made leisurely. Newt stood off to the side, seemingly unaffected by Minho's nudity or by what the athlete was doing. It took a bit of cajoling, but Thomas joined him on Newt's bed, excited yet anxious.

Taking Minho for the first time was about as exciting as their first threesome. He felt proud for making the athlete writhe and moan the way he did, but his elation and ecstasy grew marred with the realization he would not reach completion. He'd been resigned to his acceptance. As long as Minho felt fulfilled, Thomas didn't mind. That is, until Newt, who'd done nothing but stroke his own erection as he watched, finally pressed a slick finger into his entrance.

(When had he moved? Thomas could have sworn he was still sitting on the bottom bunk.)

The room was filled with the chorus of their grunts and moans. Minho twisted into the sheets, gasping and groaning in ways Thomas never heard him do; his length dripping with strings of pre-cum. His muscles constricted around Thomas' dick, pulling him deeper into the athlete while Newt's own meaty length pierced into him with loud, erotic squelches.

Thomas found it hard to breathe.

Newt's thrusts were powerful; the way he rocked his hips gave him enough leverage to strike hard into the brunet's prostate. He pushed deep into the younger boy, the force of his strength echoing down to Minho, who cried out embarrassingly high at a sharp strike to a deliciously sore sweet spot.

"Oh shit! _Oh shuck me_ , do that again!" he gasped, clutching the sheets tight; his thighs trembling. "Thomas, I'm so close-!"

Thomas rocked hard against him, relishing the breathy, mewling noises of Minho's pleading and the breathless chuckle Newt did in response to the high keening noises of their beloved Track Star. Minho's tight warmth constricting all around him and Newt's thick length hammering into him made Thomas' nerves scream in pleasure. He felt like his whole body was on fire; his senses on overload. He wanted to stop, to relish the closeness of both his lovers and to hang onto the burning heat pooling into the pit of his stomach, but Minho continued to suck him in with Newt pushing along the way.

He felt Newt's hands find their way to his hips again, the digits still slick from lube and sweat. Sometimes, the blond would hold him tight and ram the hardest he possibly could into Thomas; other times, those long, slender fingers would wander across his skin, pinching his nipples or leaving red, angry marks across his pale, mole speckled backside. Sometimes, those fingers would find their way into his hair. Newt would pull him back for a kiss or leave love bites on his skin; other times, it was Minho, pulling him close, biting his flesh whenever Newt couldn't.

Whatever they did, they always found a way to keep Thomas in a haze of ecstasy – and he was grateful for it.

Loved them dearly because of it.

Now, with Minho's face partially buried into a pillow to muffle his screams and Thomas barely holding on to his sanity, there wasn't much touching on either of their parts.

Minho's orgasm exploded onto the sheets without warning, the older boy's voice a strangled cry as his breath was squeezed from his lungs. Thomas barely had any time to process what had happened when Newt gripped onto his hips again and pummeled into his prostrate like a jack hammer. He shrieked, his vision going white as his climax slammed into him like a freight train. Newt milked the rest of his cum onto Minho's stomach, his palm growing slick from the ringlets of spunk that poured out of the younger boy in what seemed like a never ending stream.

Newt came into him barely a second afterwards with a heavy grunt. He pumped the rest of his seed into Thomas, his thrusts in tune to stroking Thomas' length.

Thomas collapsed on top of Minho afterwards, exhausted and sticky; his body sore and breathless. Newt remained buried inside him, the feeling weird now that the heat was passing, yet the fullness was enough to keep him from complaining. (If only Newt hadn't disconnected him from Minho, they would have all been tethered together by him.)

Minho draped his arms lazily around Thomas, peppering his abused neck with tender, feather light kisses.

"Fuck. I love you shanks." He breathed. He reached out blindly for Newt and found the boy's sweaty hand. He held him tightly, their fingers interlacing. "That… was amazing."

"Y-yeah…" Thomas sighed. "But this part is great too."

"Bloody hell," Newt murmured distractedly.

Both boys tensed.

"What's wrong?"

"I forgot to wear a condom." Newt grumbled. " _Fuck._ "

Thomas and Minho couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

Thomas was on cloud nine. His body was still sore from their earlier shenanigans, but the sickness he'd been feeling the last few days seemed to dissipate like smoke. He had never felt so happy.

He was tempted to text Teresa about his successful conversation with his boyfriends but thought better of it. As close as they used to be as children, Thomas didn't feel comfortable sharing his personal business. It'd been uncomfortable enough the first time talking to her about his relationship, he didn't want to have to go through the experience again with something more intimate.

He was on his way down the hall to collect a few snacks from the cafeteria when he collided painfully into another body. He already knew who it was before his eyes fell on the boy in question.

"Gally please, we have to stop meeting like this." He grinned.

Gally scowled in displeasure. He brushed the front of his clothes as though Thomas' collision left a sizeable stain on his shirt and crossed his arms in an attempt at intimidation. He was a tall boy and rather burly; he had the physique to try out for the football team, but Gally didn't bother with sports. Instead, he used his frame to intimidate his inferiors, but Thomas didn't fear him. He never would.

"Watch where you're going shank, is that so hard to do?" He was met with a snicker. Gally's hard gaze turned inquisitive. He zeroed in on Thomas' neck, his eyebrows arching into his hairline.

Thomas felt his heart quicken.

"Nice hickey greenie. 'S'plains the good mood. Got laid, eh?"

Thomas' flesh colored hotly. He slapped a hand to the bruise and cursed out Minho and Newt under his breath. Gally's eyes narrowed again.

"I've been hearing a lot of rumors lately about you and your roommates."

"What are we in elementary? You should know better than to believe in rumors, Gally."

The dark haired boy clicked his tongue. "I get we're not friends. I hate you, you hate me, but I respect your work ethic. You're always trying to get the best of me and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't fun. But all this crazy klunk rumors about you three shanks is concerning."

Thomas failed to keep the surprise off his face, but Gally barreled on, uncomfortable with the conversation.

"Believe me, whatever you three slint-heads do on your own time is your business, but when you walk around flaunting your cuts and bruises like a dumbass shank that you are, I have to intervene."

Thomas opened his mouth to retort but Gally raised a hand to stop him.

"I don't care what your excuses are, Thomas. You three shanks are getting involved in a lifestyle you clearly know nothing about. What's more disappointing is Newt allowing it. I thought he'd be smart enough to know better."

Thomas was stunned. He didn't know what was weirder, Gally actually being concerned about his well-being or Gally _knowing_ what he and his boyfriends were doing. He gawked at the boy, mouth stupidly open and eyes wide. Gally snorted then punched his shoulder.

"OW SHIT GALLY WHAT THE HELL?"

"Stop gawking at me like a moron, shank!" He spat, cheeks tinged pink.

Thomas couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or rage. "That's the last time I talk to you like a civilized human. See you at the exams, shank. Hope ya bomb."

He shoved past him, stalking down the hall with a huff.

"Keep dreaming Gally!" Thomas called, flipping him off despite knowing the boy couldn't see.

He frowned. Great, who else knew about him, Minho and Newt?

* * *

 ** _Questions? Comments? Critics?  
Leave a review!  
You can find me at:  
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	17. Part XIII

_Sorry for the short chapter, I got distracted with a thousand other things to write.  
_

 _My usual beta reader is having finals this week so this chapter is unedited. I'll get them fixed up once he's available again._

* * *

 ** _Part XIII_**

* * *

Gally kept the knowledge of their relationship to himself, much to Thomas' surprise. His rival seemed more inclined to study for the exams than make fun of Thomas and his kinks, but even so, the brunet kept his guard up whenever Gally was around. One could never be too careful, especially now that Janson knew about his business as well.

Janson's assignments were a nightmare. It was like the man was avidly trying to punish Thomas by making the rest of his students suffer. Thomas watched achingly as Newt chewed on the end of his pen in distress. Minho's constant shuffling and sighing were a heavy distraction within the silent, tensed atmosphere. Minho fidgeted in his chair; Newt ran his fingers through his hair periodically.

Thomas tried to keep his hands from trembling in rage.

The scratch scratching of pens scraping against paper filled the room.

Thomas forced himself to focus on the exam, but his boyfriends' distress occupied his mind like a heavy weight on his shoulders. He was two questions away from finishing; two easy peasy questions about assignments he had aced with flying colors. The entirety of the exam had been nothing but cake walk, and yet… Minho and Newt's constant fidgeting and scraping had told him the test hadn't been easy for everyone. If they failed because of him…

 _Come on, focus Thomas. You can do this. Don't you dare give Rat Man the satisfaction._

A sneeze tore through the blanket silence of the classroom. Thomas jumped in his chair, his knee knocking hard against the desk painfully. A harsh black line cut through his essay paper like a knife, the indentation deep, but luckily not too damaging. (He would have hated to start all over because of it.)

All eyes turned to the culprit. Thomas felt his chest tighten in embarrassment.

Minho cleared his throat, his cheeks slightly tinged pink. He continued with his work, but Janson's blue eyes narrowed with thinly veiled disgust.

"Mr. Lee, if you dare disrupt my classroom again, I will have no choice but to fail you and expel you from the remainder of the semester."

Minho kept his eyes on the exam, though Thomas could see the rage in his eyes.

"Yes sir. Sorry sir. If I happen to sneeze again, I'll make sure to do it as quietly as possible."

Thomas tried to suppress his groan.

Newt ducked further into his chair, his blond hair shadowing his eyes, though the grip on his pen was enough indication for Thomas. The boy was just as annoyed as him.

Janson's lip twitched. "Yes Mr. Lee, please do so. And do take care of that sass. Your grade is in my hands after all."

Gally rose to his feet during the exchange and handed his packet to Janson. Thomas ducked in avoidance. He still had one more question to go.

"Ugh, that fucking shank!" Minho kicked open their dorm door and angrily tossed his bag to the side. He collapsed onto Newt's bed with an angry exhale.

"He's being a wanker," Newt grumbled, the worry lines on his forehead prominent. "Threatening to fail you for sneezing? What kind of bloody nonsense is that? What an arse!"

"What's with him lately? It's like he's trying to get us!"

Thomas locked the door quietly, the encounter with Janson replaying in his mind. "He might be," He commented quietly.

Newt and Minho turned to him with matching frowns.

"He spoke with me a few days ago." He admitted reluctantly. "He was worried about my grades. He thinks because we're roommates, my grades are going to fall."

"That's bloody ridiculous! You have the highest score there."

"He, uh, he also knows we're dating."

Minho shot up from the bed like a rocket. "What?! How?"

Thomas bit his lower lip. "I might have admitted it…"

"Oh my shuckin' god," Minho groaned. He fell back into the mattress with a heavy _plop._

Newt rubbed his temples.

"That explains why he's been really harsh." Newt sighed. He sat on Thomas' bed, leaning his forehead against the wooden frame. "We'll just have to try harder in his class then. Don't give him a reason to fail us."

Minho scoffed. "He doesn't need a reason. He can just do it, the shank."

"He'll need one if he doesn't want the Dean on him."

"I'm absolutely shit in his class Newt. What do you expect me to do?"

"I can help you."

Minho glanced up at Thomas in uncertainty. He scowled, unhappy with the idea of studying. "Fine." He relented a few seconds later. "I'll tell the coach to lay off on the practice. He won't be happy though."

"He'd be worse if you failed English." Thomas quipped.

Minho sighed in defeat. It wouldn't do for him to lose his scholarship over this. Thomas knew Minho had no other choice but to study hard to keep afloat in English.

"I'm looking forward to getting these midterms over and done with." The athlete grumbled. "I just want to relax with you guys and play games. Maybe go out to dinner." He shrugged. "I don't know. Whatever strikes my fancy."

Newt leaned further back into Thomas' bed, a lazy smile on his face. "Yeah, Min. Me too."

"We're almost there guys. Just a few more days to go."

They groaned.

* * *

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	18. Side Story IV: Minho's Sick Day

_Posting up two chapters tonight because this is the second time I've posted Minho's Sick Day. It was too early when I first uploaded in the timeline but now after the last chapter, it's finally time to place this.  
_

* * *

 ** _Side Story IV: Minho's Sick Day_**

* * *

Before Newt and Thomas came along, Minho's first love was track. It'd been something he was good at since childhood, but didn't decide to make anything of it until high school. It'd taken him a while to come to that decision, but he'd done it, stuck with it through his high school years and earned a scholarship thanks to his athleticism.

Every morning, just after dawn, Minho would wake up with Newt, kiss the lump sack that was Thomas goodbye and head to morning practice. Sometimes, he would arrive earlier than his teammates and spend the next thirty minutes doing warm ups and lamenting his decision to not grab breakfast with Newt. Sometimes, when Newt felt particularly kind, he would meet up with him before classes and give him a snack, but most mornings Minho fended for himself. He did this every day, in rain or shine, through gusty winds or fluttering snow.

That Friday morning had been a nasty one. The winds were fierce, rain turned to ice and the track field was covered in sleet. The walkways around campus were hazardous and the visibility non-existent. Classes were cancelled for most that day—only the most stubborn of professors to host a lecture, i.e. Professor Janson—and practice for all sports teams were called off, including volleyball which was mostly spent inside.

But Minho was a stubborn fool. He woke up bright and early, dawned on the WCKED U hoodie, threw on a pair of sweats, wrapped a scarf around his neck and was out the door with his running shoes in seconds. When he returned to the dorm nearly two hours later, soaked to the bone from the icy rain and shivering all over, Newt gave him the lecture of a lifetime. As punishment, he refused to acknowledge Minho's existence for the rest of the day after that. He had even dragged Thomas into it. Needless to say, Minho sulked in the corner of the room for the duration of the day.

That Saturday morning, as the sun rose slowly beyond the fresh horizon, Thomas felt nice and snug inside his warm cocoon blanket when a loud sneeze ripped through the air. He jerked awake, heart pounding in terror. He frantically scanned the dimly lit dorm in search of the source, his mind reeling. Nothing stood out in the dimness of the room, just the light breaths of his sleeping roommates and the distant chirp of the early morning birds.

He re-scanned Newt's side of the room for anything he may have missed, but all he saw was the limp form of the blond, dead to the world and ear plugs in place. Saturdays were their lazy days. If Newt had to wake up at an ungodly hour everyday then Saturdays and Sundays were the two days he wanted to sleep past 6 AM. (Not that it mattered. He would just wake up two hours after, but whatever. Newt was Newt.) The ear plugs were a nice investment, one Thomas was regretting on skimming.

Gravity lured him back to his pillow, the adrenaline from his earlier scare now ebbing away. He was just about to fall asleep when another sneeze tore through the air, followed by a phlegm riddled cough. A gruff curse topped off the spiel and now Thomas was sitting upright in his bunk, brows furrowed in concern.

The bunk frame wobbled in movement. Minho climbed down the ladder with careful steps, his ebony hair a bird's nest of crazy; his expression sour. He didn't acknowledge Thomas's presence in the dark from the ladder, or hear the boy crawl out of bed as he wandered on heavy feet into the kitchenette. It wasn't until Minho grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and cold medicine did he register the brunet's appearance next to him.

He squeaked embarrassingly high, nearly sending his supplies to the floor.

"THOMAS!" He rasped angrily, gripping the containers tight in his fists. "What the hell man?! It's too damn early for you to give me tachycardia!"

Thomas gave his boyfriend an apologetic smile. "Sorry, didn't mean to. I'm light on my feet."

"Shuck it you dork. _God._ " He breathed. He gave Thomas a calculating look. He tried to hide the medicine bottle as discreetly as he could from the boy's line of sight, but the effort was for naught. Thomas had already seen.

"What are you doing awake? It's almost 7:30. You're usually dead until 10."

"Your sneezing woke me up."

Minho snorted or at least attempted to. The sound came across more like a snotty gurgle. The wince that crossed the older boy's face gave Thomas the impression he swallowed a nasty bit of phlegm.

"I did not sneeze. You must be hearing things."

"No, I heard you sneeze. The heart attack I woke up to is proof enough."

The quiet, half-wheezing, half-liquid laugh Minho forced out made Thomas want to bristle. Of course he'd try to deny it! Minho bugged every one of them about their colds, god forbid they ended up even. He gave Thomas a pat on his shoulder, squeezing it tight in a mixture of affection and assurance.

"Oh Thomas, Thomas—my silly little shuck faced Thomas—I do not get sick. I'm in my prime. I'm healthy, I run every day. I _don't_ get sick." He broke into a fit of coughs then, each one a little rougher than the last.

Newt shifted in his sheets, but remained asleep. Minho watched the prone figure for a moment before removing his arm away from his mouth. Thomas eyed him, his expression impassive.

"You were saying?"

Minho sniffed. "Not a cold."

"You're sick."

"It's allergies."

Thomas stole the cold medicine out of Minho's grasp and pointed to it pugnaciously. " _Sick_."

Dark brown eyes danced from the cherry flavored bottle of liquid crap to the unamused brown of Thomas's eyes. The sulky pout was on Minho's lips before he knew it.

"Okay, maybe I'm a little sick."

"A little? It sounds like you have phlegm in your lungs, Minho. You might have gotten pneumonia."

"Thomas, you're a Liberal Arts major. What do you know?"

"Correction: I changed it to Science and for your information, I happen to know a lot!"

Minho chuckled. He poured himself the correct dose of Robutessin then downed it in a gulp. He chugged the cool water quickly, still scowling at the after taste that lingered on his tongue. Once he was done, Thomas pointed to his bottom bunk, earning him a raised brow from the boy in question.

"Your bed?"

"Yeah. It's easier for Newt and I to watch you if you're on ground level." Thomas explained. He felt his cheeks heat up beneath Minho's impish scrutiny. "W-what?"

The older boy hummed coyly. He drew closer to Thomas, his gaze intensifying. "Oh, I just think it's interesting that you want me so close to you is all." He pulled Thomas closer, their waists flushed together, hands on his ass. "Just makes me wonder if you're…expecting something a little _more_ , y'know?" Minho leaned in, tilting his head sideways the way he would when he was about to steal a kiss, but Thomas gently shoved him away, heat coursing through his veins.

He ignored the childish pout on the older boy's face.

"Stop trying to seduce me. You're going back to bed until Newt wakes up and then we're going to figure out what to do from there. It's Saturday morning, so our options are limited for any possible doctor appointments."

Minho grumbled. He broke out into another series of hacking coughs. He crawled dejectedly into Thomas's bed, muttering complaints the whole time. Thomas reached for the blankets, hoping to tuck the boy in, but Minho grabbed onto his wrist and pulled him into the mattress. He curled around the shorter male, nuzzling his nose into his chest with a content sigh. Strong arms wrapped around his waist, holding him close for a second time that hour.

Thomas sighed in defeat. "Go to sleep Minho."

A content moan was his only response.

* * *

He woke up to a discomforting wave of heat and someone running their fingers on his side. Miho's face was still buried in his chest, those well-toned arms tight around him. The boy was heavily asleep, his breathing deep and body limp. Behind him, Thomas realized, was another body pressed snug against his. He didn't need to check to know it was Newt.

The blond laid flush against his back, head propped up on his hand. His free hand roamed along the curvature of Thomas's frame, slender fingers tracing light patterns on top of his pajamas. It felt ticklish against his flesh.

"Mornin'," He whispered affectionately, snuggling his nose just behind Thomas's ear. "What a fantastic sight to wake up to."

"Mm… what time is it?"

"Time for you to wake up." He purred. He placed a tender kiss just behind the boy's ear.

Thomas turned, mouth opening to retort when Newt's soft lips captured his. He pulled away quickly, quirking them into a smile at the boy's bashful expression.

"Come on," he urged, tapping his arm. "It's Saturday, let's grab breakfast and see what Alby and the others are doing. Wake up ya shank!"

He nudged Minho's arm with enough strength to ruffle the athlete. He groaned in annoyance, burying his face deeper into Thomas's torso.

Newt sighed.

Thomas gave him a pacifying smile. "Don't be so hard on him today. He's sick."

Newt's eyes immediately narrowed. "He's _sick_?"

Before Thomas got a chance to reply, Newt reached across the bed and smacked Minho hard on the bicep. The track runner jerked into wakefulness, a gargled yelp escaping his lips. Newt pinned him down with a hard glare.

"Tommy says you're sick. Tell me he's wrong."

"He's wrong."

"Hey!"

"You _are_ sick!" Newt snapped reproachfully. "What did I tell you about running in that weather yesterday Minho?!"

"Absolutely nothing. You were asleep."

"Minho!"

"Alright! Fine! So I'm sick. There's nothing we can do about it now. Can we just get over it so you guys can nurse me back to health?" Minho pouted.

"Oh no, no, _no! We_ aren't nursing you back to health." Newt grabbed Thomas's arm and pulled him closer his way. "Tommy and I are going to grab breakfast. You—" He pressed a finger hard against Minho's broad chest. "—are going to lay here and wallow in your sickness."

"No way!" He cried. His voice cracked at the high octave. "You're not leaving me here alone. I'm coming with."

"No, you're probably contagious. You'll get everyone else sick."

Minho grabbed onto Thomas's left arm and pulled him right out of Newt's grasp.

"Then Thomas stays with me! We took a nap together, he's probably already sick. And if he's not—" Minho yanked the boy's chin upwards, pressed his mouth against his and shoved his tongue inside.

Newt balked in horror as Minho pulled away, a trail of saliva stretching between their lips. Thomas sat there, stunned, embarrassed and slightly grossed out—not because of the action, but because he remembered Minho was sick. The Asian stuck out his tongue childishly at Newt.

"Now my germs will take over Thomas's body and we'll be sick together."

"That's bloody disgusting," Newt grimaced. He yanked the boy again, disorienting him. "But there's still hope. Come on Tommy!"

Minho latched on for dear life, sniffling grossly. A look of repulsion crossed Newt's face again. (Thomas couldn't blame him, he was sure they were all going to get sick at this rate.)

"It's too late Newt, I've already claimed him! He's mine!"

"He's not sick yet slinthead! I can still save him!"

They tugged him back and forth like a ragdoll, bickering as children would over a beloved toy. Thomas felt nauseous, their chaotic pulling disquieting his empty stomach. Their argument raised in volume as the minutes wore on. This time, Newt pressed Thomas firmly against his chest as he shoved Minho away with his foot.

The athlete suddenly pounced then.

He collided into the two of them with enough force, they fell off the edge of the bed and crashed to the ground with a loud _thud._ The air was squeezed out of Thomas's lungs, Minho's weight crashing down on him tenfold, making it hard to breathe.

Newt groaned from under them, irritation marring his face.

Minho let out a victorious laugh that immediately morphed into coughs again. He loomed over them once he was done, cheeks read from the extortion, his lips set into a haughty smile.

"I really like this position, shanks." He croaked. "Trapped under my weight, submissive to my needs." As if to prove a point, he rotated his hips experimentally, rubbing his groin against the mounds of Thomas's butt.

The brunet twitched. Heat coursed through his blood again, though he wasn't sure if it was from arousal or anger. He tried to shoot Minho an annoyed glower, but found he couldn't move much to give him the full effect.

A cough sounded from the entrance. The trio stilled, wide eyes cautiously turning towards the door. Teresa smiled at them from the doorway, her hand still on the handle. Behind her stood Aris, a look of disturbance marring his face and Alby, who watched them with raised brows. They stared at each other for a good ten seconds before Minho cleared his phlegm soaked throat.

"Sorry guys, Newt and Thomas will meet up with you all later. I'm a little sick and these shanks promised to nurse me back to health."

"That's sweet of them," Teresa smiled, an amused twinkle sparkling in her eyes. "We'll see you all later then. Get better Minho." Her eyes connected with Thomas's for a moment. She flashed him a discreet wink before closing the door shut behind them.

Minho collapsed on top of them with a dramatic sigh.

"Now that you're both free—nurse me back to health."

Newt grumbled. Thomas groaned. Again, Minho's heavy weight made it nearly impossible to breathe.

Minho flashed them both a bright victorious smile. He sneezed suddenly, mucous and spit splattering his sleeve.

"Ugh!"

"Gross."

"That's attractive," Minho sniffed. "Sorry."

"Just get off already!" They pleaded desperately.

The athlete huffed, discontent with their attitude, but also amused. He had a laundry list of petty torture he wanted them to suffer before the weekend was through, not because he wanted them to suffer for the sake of suffering, but as revenge for the anxiety he went through during their times of sickness.

* * *

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	19. Side Story VI: Where Art Thou Banana?

_I filed this under crack because BOY IS IT REALLY!_

* * *

 ** _Side Story VI: Where Art Thou Banana?_**

* * *

Bananas were a real treat for the boys. It wasn't often they could have fruit seeing as they were expensive and quick to spoil, but Rachel had been sympathetic to their plight. She brought them a small batch of fruits three times in a month and they would praise her. They worshipped the ground she walked on – unless Thomas was allergic, in which case Thomas would give Minho dirty looks as he devoured their chosen fruit of the week and ignore Newt's chiding to get the boys to stop.

This week, Rachel had given them bananas. They were still a shade between yellow and green and hard to the touch, much too bitter for the boys' liking.

"Give it a day or two," she told them. "It'll be sweet by then."

Newt left the bananas hanging on their fruit rack for the next two days and found great amusement in his boyfriends' behavior. Thomas and Minho stared at the fruits at every opportunity. One minute, two minutes, an hour into their conversation, he would look over and find the both of them glancing at the delectable, their faces nearly identical. After every four hours, one of them would get up to squeeze a banana and when their fingers would be met with resistance, the pout on their face made Newt want to smother them in kisses.

They were far too adorable.

He loved every second of it.

When Wednesday finally rolled around, Thomas breezed through his classes. He looked forward to having the first bite, had daydreamed about the sweetness of the banana in all of his classes. He burst into the dorm once his classes were done, tossed his bags carelessly against the wall and grabbed the empty air of the fruit rack, his fingers already curling around an imaginary banana.

He paused.

He glanced at the fruit holder, eyeing the conspicuous emptiness.

He stared at his hand, palm up and open. Empty of a banana.

He backed away from the counter with precise slowness and scanned the dorm.

Clean and empty. Devoid of bananas.

With great trepidation, he peered into the garbage can.

Banana peels. Multiple. All yellow and spotty, most definitely delicious and sweet. All eaten.

Thomas nearly collapsed, distraught by the massacre. His boyfriends' had betrayed him. They ate all the bananas!

Thomas whipped out his phone lightning quick and speed dialed Newt's number.

"Yes Tommy?"

"You guys ate all the bananas!" He cried, annoyed and dismayed at how pitchy his voice sounded. Newt's laughter made him bristle. "This isn't funny! Do you guys have any idea how long it's been since I had a banana?! Senior year in high school, Newt! That was years ago!"

"Two years ago, actually. Don't be so dramatic, Tommy." The blond chuckled. "'sides, I only had one piece. Maybe Minho took the rest to practice?"

"All of them?!" He squeaked and broke into a series of cough that pitch way out of his level of normal.

Newt's amusement was palpable even through the cell phone.

"Probably just three. He does track Tommy. He needs the energy."

"He needs the energy?! _I_ need the energy! I'm a growing boy, Newt, I need my banana sustenance!"

"He runs track. You sleep all day."

"Don't excuse your boyfriend's selfish behavior here, Newt!" Thomas huffed. "There was enough bananas for all of us and he took them all without consulting me!"

Newt's laughter rang through the receiver melodiously. "Oh so he's _my_ boyfriend when he's misbehaving? Last I recall, he was yours too. You should have taught him more discipline, Tommy."

"He took my bananas Newt. He's dead to me." Thomas pouted.

"You are very lucky I have class right now, Tommy, otherwise, I would smother you in kisses. If I see Minho, I'll ask him 'bout the bananas. Oh and if you kill him before I get back, we've got bleach in one of the bottom cabinets and garbage bags."

"What if he stains the carpet?"

"We'll say he had a nose bleed."

"That'll work for ten minutes," Thomas grinned despite himself. "I can't promise he won't make a mess."

"Try to keep the stabbing a minimal then. Love you."

"Have fun learning nerd. Love you."

Thomas collapsed onto Newt's mattress, his arms spread eagle as he blinked up at the ceiling. If Minho really did take all the bananas, Thomas vowed to get back at him, starting with Minho's precious supply of hair gel.

Five o'clock on the dot, Minho came through the door, all smiles and energy. Thomas body slammed him against the wall, ignoring the way Minho's wet bangs fell over his eyes or how his tanned skin smelled like apricot body wash. Minho's dark eyes blinked rapidly, confusing clouding his expression.

Thomas drew close, eyes deadly sharp. His lips shaped into a snarl.

"The bananas Minho. Where are they?"

Minho met his gaze with a blank stare.

"What?"

"The bananas!" Thomas slammed a palm against the wall beside Minho's head. The track stare didn't even flinch. "Where have you taken them?!"

The older boy quirked a dark brow in confusion, but something clicked behind his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Thomas' waist and pulled the boy flush against him, their groins touching. Thomas suppressed the urge to groan, the slight friction of his jeans sending a delicious tingle up his spine. He felt Minho's breath against his ear, warm and dangerously close.

"I ate them all." He whispered.

Thomas wrenched himself away, horror written on his face.

Minho's laughter was boisterous in the quiet dorm.

"You ate them all?! You didn't even leave me one!"

"Relax, I didn't eat them _all._ I ate most of them, but not all. There were like five bananas. Newt had one, I took three, so there should have been one left for you."

"Do you see a single one here Min?!" Thomas pointed to the rack devoid of bananas. "Where did you leave it? In Narnia?"

Minho stared at the empty fruit rack for a solid ten seconds. "The gremlins must have taken it."

"Minho!" The smirk on the older boy's face was insufferable. Thomas groaned. "Stop it! This isn't funny! I really wanted those bananas."

"Oh, trust me shank, it's funny." He chuckled. "You're seriously getting worked up over a bunch of bananas. It's the cutest thing I've ever seen you do."

"You know what would have been cuter, Minho? Me eating a banana!" the boy snapped. He slumped against the counter, disappointed with the whole ordeal. More than anything, he was annoyed. Minho didn't need to take three bananas for himself, the slint-head.

He gave the boy a scathing glare. On any other person, it would have worried them – scared them even, but to Minho, having Thomas glare at him was like a mouse standing up against a cat. Truly adorable and definitely delectable.

Minho raised his hands genially. "Oh no please, not the glare. Don't hate me Thomas, how would I ever survive?"

"You don't. I'm killing you tonight."

He laughed. He pulled Thomas into a hug before the boy could protest and stole his lips for a kiss.

"You're a cute shank sometimes." Minho murmured, capturing his lips again. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. I promise."

Thomas grumbled.

He melted into the embrace and allowed Minho to take his lips again. He could faintly taste the sweetness of his stolen banana on the boy's tongue.

A click from the doorway stole their attention. Newt stepped into the dorm, a grocery bag in hand. He held up the bag to Thomas, an amused grin still on his lips.

"Went out and bought ya bananas, Tommy."

Thomas latched onto Newt with a cheerful cry, nearly knocking the tall boy over in his exuberance. Minho pouted.

"I was going to do that."

"Too late." Newt chortled. "Tommy loves me more now. You can sleep in the dog house. Pay for your crimes, Minho."

Minho gasped theatrically. He pressed a hand against his chest and fluttered his lashes rapidly. "You dare punish me for eating all the bananas? And here I thought I was your favorite shank."

"You've dishonored us. You're a banana fiend now."

Thomas tore a piece from the bundle of bananas and quickly peeled the yellow, spotty skin. He moaned into the bite, feeling his teeth sink into the soft, sweet tasting fruit. His second bite led to another loud, slow moan, his taste buds exploding in ecstasy.

Both boys eyed the banana almost jealously.

"I think we should ban bananas from the dorm." Minho proposed on Thomas' third groan. "That thing puts us to shame."

"Don't be jealous Min," Newt snickered, patting the boy on the shoulder. "I'm sure they'll invite you to bed."

"Hah haha, very funny shank."

Minho grabbed another piece of banana and joined Thomas in banana heaven.

* * *

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	20. Side Story VII: A Moment In Sin

_**Side Story VII: A Moment in Sin**_

* * *

There weren't a lot of rules in the dorm, just the usual common sense things like clean up after yourself, respect everyone's privacy and no unwanted visitors at strange hours of the day. Luckily for Thomas, the only unwanted visitors he received at weird hours of the day were his boyfriends' crawling into bed with him. But that didn't mean they didn't have certain other rules.

Newt was a stickler for wanting to keep his clothes organized. He wasn't so much as an "unbearable neat freak" but when it came to his closet, especially when sharing with Thomas, having their clothes be all over the place was one of the quickest ways to get on the blond's bad side. As sexy as it was to have Newt glare death at him, Thomas _really_ didn't want to be subjugated to it all the time. As for Thomas, he preferred they keep their junk off his bed at all times. That wasn't too much to ask, right?

Minho's request was fairly simple as well: don't touch his holy grail of hair gel.

Thomas usually respected his boyfriends' wishes, as they would for his, but after Minho had so brazenly eaten all of the bananas a few days ago, he wasn't feeling so respectful of his property. (Perhaps he was being a little childish and bitter getting upset over something as simple as bananas, but they were just so rare and delectable and Minho wouldn't stop making fun of his reaction for days after it. Thomas just… wanted to teach the athlete a little lesson, that's all.)

He waited until Minho had gone on his early morning job to strike.

He searched through the dresser for the hair supplies and gathered the lot into a small basket Minho usually used for their bathroom supplies. He didn't understand why Minho had ten different types of gels and creams for his hair, or why the athlete bothered to keep up with appearances in the first place. He and Newt didn't care what they looked like, and they certainly didn't care whether or not Minho's hair was gelled to perfection are flat against his skull. (Honestly, Thomas preferred it flat. He liked how soft it felt when he ran his fingers through it.) They liked Minho for who he is, not how he looked.

With the last hair product inside the basket, Thomas glanced over to the garbage can and debated on tossing them out. It'd be a little cruel, having Minho waste all his money like that. It wasn't like Thomas wanted him to suffer _too much_ , he just wanted to teach the boy a lesson.

He bit his lip.

He slid the basket under their bunk and wiped his hands clean from sin. He quickly slammed the dresser shut just as Newt walked into the room with a towel wrapped around his head.

"You're awake early, Tommy. I thought you didn't function until nine?"

"I heard the call of the wild." He shrugged. He leaned against the dresser and flashed Newt an innocent smile.

The frown was on Newt's face faster than Thomas could blink.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

Newt's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What. Did. You. Do?" With each word, his stare grew more penetrating and dangerous.

Thomas tried not to sweat.

"I did absolutely nothing, Newtie."

The blond's eyes suddenly widened. "You called me 'Newtie', you bloody did somethin'!" He gaped. "Out with it Thomas!"

The brunet gasped in mock horror. "You called me 'Thomas'! I _must_ be in trouble."

"And you're avoidin' the subject, which leads me to believe you've done a terrible crime against humanity." Newt's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "You touched Minho's hair supplies, didn't you?"

"Noooo," he drawled. "I'm not that cruel. I would never do that to Minho."

Newt was in his face in seconds. He smelled like apricot body wash and mint toothpaste.

"You're a terrible liar," he droned, his accent thick. He pulled Thomas aside with a gentle shove and reopened the drawer.

Thomas knew better than to stick around. He made a beeline for the door before Newt could register the emptiness of the drawer.

"Tommy!"

He bolted.

He barely made it past the doorway when he body slammed solidly into Gally. Both boys crashed to the floor in a comical display of pain and tangled limbs. Everyone in the hall stopped to stare. Gally, who managed to gain enough of his bearings to realize what happened, opened his mouth to retaliate, but Newt yanked Thomas back to his feet before he could run again.

"You shank—!"

"You better not bloody run like a lovin' coward, Tommy! Face your sins!"

"What the hell is going on?"

All eyes turned to Minho. He stood a few feet away from the boys, freshly washed from his run, his hair matted down with water. He eyed Gally still sprawled on the ground curiously then to Thomas and Newt.

"There better be a really good story behind why the slinthead's on the ground."

Gally scowled.

"Your roommate practically bowled me over!"

"You ruined my escape!"

"You shouldn't have been running! Don't you ever follow the rules?!"

"Don't you know I'm allergic to rules?!"

"Enough!" Newt pulled Thomas further away from Gally, his grip on Thomas' arm uncomfortably tight. "Knock it off! We have more important matters here!"

Gally opened his mouth in rebuttal but Minho beat him to it.

"What's going on?"

"Tommy touched your hair gel. Now it's gone."

A moment of silence filled the hallway. Thomas cringed. Minho stared at Newt with a blank expression, as though unable to process what he just heard. The blond nodded in confirmation while Thomas tried his best to appear inconspicuous despite Newt's iron grip on his arm.

Gally simply looked dumbfounded.

"I'm sorry Gally, can you excuse us?" Minho began, oddly olite.

Gally was too stunned for words.

Minho followed his boyfriends into the dorm then shut h door behind him. He turned to Thomas slowly, took in a deep breath and exhaled.

Thomas braced himself for the explosion.

"Thomas, I love you. I thought… I believed we could have been something special, but now? I have to kill you."

"You ate my banana!"

"Oh for the love of—" Newt cried out behind him.

Minho scowled. "You threw out my expensive hair gel because of that? That was literally a week ago Thomas! Do you have any idea how expensive those hair products are?"

Thomas huffed. "First of all, I hid them, I didn't throw them out. Secondly, you should know by now that I'm a bitter person."

"Hell yeah you are! You know what? Fine." Minho threw the towel he'd been carrying onto the boy's bed much to his chagrin. Minho screwed up his face theatrically.

"Oh no, what have I done? I got my mess all over your bed, Thomas. Oh no, oh gee, what a clumsy shank I am." He dead panned.

Thomas stared at him with exaggerated revulsion. "You're incorrigible! I can't believe you! Newt!"

"Don't drag me into this. You two stay on your side of the bed and I'll stay on mine."

"Fine! You know what Min? You look ridiculous with your hair spiked up like that anyway!"

Minho gasped in genuine horror. "You did _not_ just say that! At least I care about my looks! Unlike _some_ people in this room right now!"

"Don't insult Newt like that, Min!"

"What did I bloody just say about draggin' me into this?!" Newt huffed.

Both boys suddenly burst into laughter at his outcry. Newt dragged them into an open arm hug and knocked their heads together, taking great pleasure in their pained groans.

"Bloody shanks, the lot of ya." He grumbled. "You're both grounded!"

"Don't punish me! Thomas is the troublemaker here. He's the one allergic to following the rules."

"Hey! Don't make fun of my disability, Minho!"

"You're right," Newt turned to Thomas: "Tommy, disability or not, you should know better than to keep your impulses in check." – Thomas gaped – "Therefore, you're grounded. Sit in the corner and think about your crimes. No cuddling for you."

"Fine!" He tried for a pout, but the smile on his face made it difficult for it to stick. "Like I want to cuddle with you two shanks anyway!"

Before he could turn his back, Minho and Newt pulled him in for another hug. They ruffled his hair affectionately and showered him in kisses until they were all laughing at their antics.

Minho didn't find his basket full of hair supplies until nightfall.

* * *

 _I'm gonna miss the banana saga._

 ** _Questions? Comments? Critics?  
Drop a line!_**


	21. Part XIV

_Unedited. I'll fix all errors at a later date. Enjoy the update!_

* * *

 ** _Part XIV_**

* * *

"It sounds annoyingly complicated." Minho commented that cold afternoon.

Gally gave the track star his most deadened expression.

Thomas found himself in one of the most awkward situations of his life. What was meant to be a quick lunch with his boyfriends turned into a gathering of friends.

Teresa and Aris sat idly near the end of the table, sharing a large pile of onion rings while Rachel and Sonya giggled among themselves over a joke Thomas missed. Alby had joined them soon after, Harriet on his heels and now Gally, who had sat down on their table without permission. It irked Minho, but after Gally's talk the other day, Thomas would've felt rude sending the boy away.

Somehow, within the twenty minutes it took for them to settle down, the topic of their sex lives reared its ugly head. Thomas resisted the urge to bury his face behind his food, his cheeks hot like fire and as red as apples.

"There's nothing complicated 'bout it, just pure laziness." Gally continued with a heavy eye roll. "Aftercare is one of the most important things in an S and M relationship. What better way to show your partner you care than by helping clean up the mess you made?"

"Yeah, yeah," Minho drawled. "We get it, guru. We've been keeping up with it. Calm your klunk behind."

Gally screwed up his freckled face in disgust. "I'm not jokin' Minho. Thomas could've gotten seriously injured 'cuz you shanks don't shuckin' know how to care for him. And you!" He whirled on Newt with a pointed finger, surprising the blond from his reverie. "What the hell were you thinkin' leaving Minho in charge of klunk like this? The slinthead doesn't know head or tails 'bout shit like this. I'm really disappointed. You should know better."

Newt struggled for words, rattled by the unexpected confrontation while Minho bristled at Gally's accusations.

Thomas laughed. "Wow Gally, I didn't know you cared so much."

"You guys think I'm playing around, but shit like this is serious. This isn't a phase, this is a _lifestyle._ I couldn't let you shanks go on like a bunch of morons, hurting each other and ruining something good." He dug into his pineapple cup, fishing out the pieces aggressively. "Listen, if you're interested, I've got a lot of books on the subject and a website that'll help. I can give it to you shanks if it means you'll be safe in your hanky panky."

Harriet suddenly laughed. "Hanky panky? Good God Gally!"

He blushed. "Shut up!"

The group divulged into nonsensical chatter after that. Thomas stubbornly tried to maintain his nonchalance in the face of the girls' teasing. Minho took great pleasure in humiliating the boy further, still irritated with Gally's earlier outburst.

Thomas hung back, watching them all. Something pleasantly warm filled his chest, chasing out the bitter air of a cold winter afternoon and pulled a smile onto his chapped, dry lips.

He was really going to miss these guys during winter break.

* * *

"Oh Thomas, if you please?"

Thomas tensed at Janson's call, his heart suddenly racing. He gave his boyfriends a pleading look before reluctantly leaving them in the hall. Newt whipped out his cell phone before Janson closed the door behind him. (Thomas already felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, Newt's message somewhat comforting despite not knowing what he sent.)

"Take a seat Thomas, we have things to discuss."

He collapsed into the nearest chair and spooled his expression into careful nonchalance. Janson dropped a packet onto the desk with a smug smirk.

"Congratulations Thomas, you passed your midterms with a perfect score."

"Th-thank you professor."

"No, thank _you_ for applying yourself, but there are some discrepancies." Janson dropped two more packets onto his desk. Thomas didn't need to read it to know those were Newt's and Minho's cores. Their exams were marred with red ink, Janson's atrociously neat words printed heavily against every possible white surface. His commentaries were small, practically pinpricks compared to his boyfriends' writing. He couldn't make out what Janson had said to either of them, the words too straining for him to read. Thomas couldn't contain the grimace.

"Thomas, it does my heart ill to see my students fail, but I have already issued warnings to both your roommates about their failure in my class."

"What?"

"Did they not tell you? Tsk." Janson sighed, shaking his head. "I offered them a solution but they both refused. Now, as a last resort, I'm offering you the opportunity to save your— _ahem—_ roommates from losing their scholarships."

Thomas tensed again. He licked his lips, wincing at the scrape of his dry tongue.

"W-what is it?"

His professor smiled amiably.

"Next semester, I will be in charge of a new program that will honor as well as provide challenges for our best students. You've shown unparalleled excellence in my classes, Thomas, I want you to participate in the program." He sat partially on Thomas' desk, hands folded on his lap, blue eyes gazing down at him. "It'll require a lot of study time so you may have to sacrifice your social life, but it is all for a good cause, Thomas. Trust me."

Thomas' leg bounced, his body humming with energy. He kept his attention focused on the packets, Minho's midterm score a shiny beacon against the sea of white and red.

He bit his lip.

"What do you say Thomas? Will you join me on behalf of your roommates?"

He stopped bobbing his leg. He turned to Janson, expression devoid of emotion.

"Can I think about it?"

Janson chuckled. "Of course Thomas, but I need an answer before the semester ends. Otherwise, I will take the matter into my hands."

He slid off the desk, gathered the papers then bid Thomas farewell.

Thomas heart didn't slow down until he was in the dorm and away from that monstrosity of a professor.

* * *

"How'd it go?"

Thomas let the door slam shut behind him, his chest heaving in a way that had nothing to do with the walk home.

"You're both failing English."

"What?"

Minho was sitting upright in bed, disbelief etched into his eyes. But it was Newt who had spoken and it was Newt who cursed thickly at Janson and ran long fingers into his blond locks.

"He shouldn't be discussing our exams with you, Tommy. It's not right."

"Fuck that!" Minho hissed, dark eyes blazing. "What did he ask you in return for "saving" our grades, Thomas? There's no way Rat Man told you that for any reason but as incentive."

"He didn't ask for anything—"

"Don't you dare fucking lie to us, Thomas! What did he want?" He demanded, his knuckles pale from gripping the edge of the mattress so tightly.

Thomas slumped against the door, suddenly exhausted.

"He wants me to sign up for this program next semester in exchange for saving your scholarships."

"Un- _fucking_ -believable." Minho fell back onto Newt's bed with an exasperated sigh. He buried his face behind his hands, trying to calm himself before he bolted out of the room and punched their professor in the face.

Newt massaged his aching temples, the tension rolling off him in waves.

"Did you tell him anything?" Newt asked after a moment of silence.

Thomas shrugged.

"I told him I'd think about it."

"You're not doing it." Minho said. "I don't care if he fails us, I'm not letting you do it. This creep's been after you the moment you enrolled in this place. We're not putting you through this, Thomas."

"Minho, you're going to fail—"

"I don't give a klunk 'bout that, Thoams!" He screamed, startling them with his intensity. "I only came here because Newt got accepted. If dropping out to save you from Rat Man's clutches is how things are gonna be then fine by me." He crossed his arms stubbornly, dead set on his decision.

Thomas looked to Newt, half expecting to see a look of horror on the blond's face, but instead all he saw was contemplation.

"Newt—"

The boy turned to him, dark eyes unreadable. He rubbed his chin as an afterthought then sighed.

"I'm with Minho on this, Tommy. Leaving might be in our best interest."

Thomas couldn't believe what he was hearing. A part of him was touched by their protectiveness. The fact Newt was willing to give up his dream college to save Thomas from Janson's clutches warmed his heart, and the idea of Minho dropping out for the same thing moved him, but he couldn't let them sacrifice their futures because of him. No, he had a different plan in mind.

"You don't have to do that."

Newt and Minho opened their mouths, ready to retort, but Thomas held up his hand, stopping them in their tracks. "Don't worry about it, okay? I can handle it. I can handle him."

"Tommy—" Newt tried, sensing Thomas' resolve.

"No, guys, please. Let me do this. You're always helping me, let me do this for you." Thomas pleaded. He had to make them believe he'd chosen to do the program, it was a better alternative than telling them the truth. "Besides, Janson likes me. He won't rag on me nearly as much as he does to you guys. I can do this. Just have faith, okay?"

"Fine." Minho grumbled. "But if shit hits the fan, we're done. If you get sick or if he so much as _breathes_ the wrong way, I'm punching him in the face and we're dropping out."

Thomas nodded, a small smile on his face. "Fine. Newt?"

Newt sighed. "I'm okay with it."

"Then it's settled." Thomas beamed, the guilt already eating at him. "I'll let him know the next time I see him."

* * *

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	22. Part XV

_Unedited. Sorry for the short chapters lately._

* * *

 _ **Part XV  
**_

* * *

Gally dropped off books at their dorm later that day. He went through each of them, explaining their specialties, marked off chapters he felt would help them the best then told them to return the books once they were well versed in the ways of aftercare. Thomas didn't have the heart told tell him they wouldn't need the books, especially since personal time for such activities would no longer be available, but Newt took the books the moment Gally brought them in.

"Thank you Gally. If I had known, I'd have come to you sooner."

"Yeah well," the younger male rubbed his neck modestly, taken aback by Newt's genuine praise. He mumbled a response, punched Thomas on the arm for normalcy then hurried out of the dorm before Minho could retaliate.

Thomas rubbed his bicep, a small smile on his lips.

* * *

He made Newt and Minho take their studies seriously. Jason's assignments were the same as ever; they were unnecessarily long, tedious and cruelly tricky. Thomas kept his promise in tutoring them. He helped out whenever they got stuck and checked over their homework three times before giving them the pass.

He kept an eye on Janson's reactions when they turned in their assignments. Thomas tore the skin on his lower lip absentmindedly, watching their professor skim through Newt's assignments with precision – no doubt on the search for anything amiss. Thomas allowed himself a fleeting moment of complacency. This assignment should be graded higher than Newt's average. Thomas triple checked everything his boyfriend did, and yet, he couldn't fight the irritation of knowing Janson would find absolutely _anything_ to take points off.

Janson didn't say a word about the assignments throughout their class period. And as they packed up to go, he didn't call them to stay behind.

Thomas took that as a sign of victory.

He joined them in the hall, heaving a sigh of relief once they were far enough away from the classroom and their professor's prying eyes.

"Did you see the look on that shanks face? He looked so impressed with Newt's work like Newt doesn't pour his heart and soul into everything Rat Man gives him." Minho scoffed. "I bet he probably thinks we're cheating off of Thomas! Because there's "no way" Newt could possibly do well on homework on his own." The runner rolled his eyes, his expression contorting into disgust.

Thomas gnawed at his bottom lip, ignoring the worried glance Newt sent his way. "I'm really sorry guys. If I hadn't said anything about us dating – "

"It's not your fault Tommy." Newt consoled, rubbing the younger male's shoulder affectionately. "Rat Man's being a git. His concern on what we do on our free time is unacceptable and an invasion of privacy."

"And the dickest move in the history of assholedom." Minho grumbled. "He's a shucking shuck faced shucked shank."

The duo chuckled.

"I have no idea what you just said Min, but it sounded hilarious."

"Glad I can amuse you, Tommy." He threw his arms around his boyfriends and gave them a smug grin. "We should celebrate our temporary victory with a date!"

"Minho," Newt sighed, though the corners of his lips threatened to upturn into a smile.

Thomas shook his head.

"No way, we can't fool around yet. This is only just the beginning, Min. We have to stay focused."

The track star groaned in disappointment, the pout on his face adorable. He looked like a depressed puppy denied treats despite his good behavior.

Newt and Thomas could only laugh.

* * *

A weak into their streak of good grades, Thomas breathed a sigh of relief. Janson had yet to call either of them up or called them out for cheating. He hadn't congratulated them for their turn around, but Thomas doubted the man would sink so low as to be an actual good person for once. It seemed like Janson didn't plan on failing his boyfriends after all.

"The final will be an accumulative of everything you learned since the start of the semester," Janson explained. He turned to his students, setting down the marker with an unnecessarily loud _tap_ against his desk. "I want your term papers on my desk next Monday morning. All late assignments will be promptly tossed into the trash. If you even _think_ about asking for an extension, I am here to tell you that you are wasting your time as well as mine. No late extensions will be given. I do not care if you are sick or dying or have other things to do – give me your term paper by Monday morning or fail my class. Those of you already in danger of failing my class, the final is your _last_ chance. Do not beg for extra credit, you will not be given one. Study well children."

Among the loud rustle of students scrambling to gather their things, Thomas caught Janon spare him a glance.

His heart froze.

"Thomas, Mr. Sangster, Lee, if you three would please stay behind?"

 _Shit._ Thomas tensed. He stole a glance his boyfriends' way, anxiety already bubbling in his stomach. Newt and Minho were barely composed, their own nerves and irritation fighting for dominance beneath their skin.

They remained in their seats as their classmates trickled away. Minho watched them forlornly, even going so far as to jokingly grab Gally's wrist to keep him from leaving, but the younger boy jerked away with a scowl. The track star snickered, his amusement short lived. Once Gally shut the door behind him, Janson gave the trio an amiable smile.

He leaned against his desk, arms crossed, body relaxed. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle in a way that made Thomas feel as though Rat Man were enjoying their restless silence.

Something dark coiled in the pit of Thomas' chest.

"The improvement I saw in the last few days have been absolutely astounding. IJ must say, I am impressed."

The trio tensed, each of them at the edge of their seats.

Janson reached across his desk for his bag. He dug out papers from the dark depths and tossed them carelessly to the first empty desk he could reach. Neither of them moved to inspect the sheets.

"But of course, I knew it was too good to be true." He chuckled. "I know you boys are roommates – among other things – but I will have you know, _bullying_ will not be tolerated in my classroom."

Minho jerked to his feet, knuckles pale against his taunt skin.

"B-bullying?!" He gaped. "What kind of klunk nonsense you spewing professor?"

"Minho!" Newt hissed.

Janson's lips stretched thin in displeasure.

"Mr. Lee, I will not tolerate such disrespect in my classroom."

"With all due respect Professor Janson," Newt began. "But are you implying that Minho and I are using Thomas to cheat for a high grade? Because the truth is, he's been tutoring us, not cheating for us."

"Mr. Sangster, you will not speak out of turn."

Thomas rose to his feet, outrage boiling his blood. Newt moved to Minho's side before the track stare could jump their despicable professor in a fit of blind rage.

"Professor, Newt is telling you the truth. I've been helping them with their homework. Everything they've handed in is 100% their work. All I've done is correct their mistakes."

Janson watched him, cerulean eyes penetrating his very being. Thomas kept his expression cool despite his heart hammering against his chest. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to shrivel beneath the man's hard gaze, but pride and rage kept his resolve firm. He refused to give Rat Man the satisfaction of superiority.

The man gave a little hum before shrugging.

"I'm not sure if I believe you Thomas. You're always trying to look out for them."

Minho's expression contorted into indignation, his hatred rolling off him in waves, but Newt held on. He kept him in place, his knuckles ghostly white against the older male's bicep.

Thomas licked his lips. His teeth gnawed his bottom lip.

"Okay. Let's—let's make a deal I'll sign up for your program next semester if you don't report us for cheating. Newt and Minho will maintain their work ethic, I promise. Do we have a deal?"

"Almost. Next semester, you will request a form exchange to prevent any more distractions. Are we clear?"

"What?! You-!"

"Minho!" Newt hissed harshly, his face pinched.

Minho swallowed the rest of his curse, but he shot Janson a murderous look. What little respect hehad for the man – if any at all – went straight out the window.

Thomas swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Okay. Deal."

Janson smiled genially. "Great. Then we're done here. Thomas, please stop by my office tomorrow to receive the paperwork." He turned on his heel, gathered his supplies and bid the boys a good day.

Minho kicked an empty desk in rage.

* * *

 _ **Thanks for reading! :)**_


	23. Part XVI

_As usual, I'll come back later to edit my mistakes._

* * *

 _ **Part XVI**_

* * *

They were silent during their trek back to the dorm. Minho's rage continued to simmer beneath his skin, the tension between them so thick, Thomas could cut it with a knife. Newt's jaw clenched, the muscle ticking underneath his skin like clockwork. Thomas watched them as they walked, the urge to comfort them, to say something just to make them laugh was strong, He wished everything would go back to the way they used to be, before either of them were swept up by love and desire. Life was simple then.

Minho felt like a ticking time bomb. Every step they took felt like they were drawing closer to the athlete's explosion. Thomas didn't want the boy to lose his cool and do something ridiculous on impulse, especially in public. (He didn't want him to lose his cool in private either, but Minho couldn't hold back his rage when he was so far off the edge already.)

Thomas was the last one to enter the dorm. He shut the door behind him, hearing the loud click of the lock sliding into place before he turned back to the others in trepidation. He was barely out of the hallway when Minho whirled on him, black eyes sharp and wet.

"Damn it Thomas! You don't have to keep saving us whenever we're in trouble with Rat Man! I already told you leaving this stupid school would be a _godsend_ to me."

"And have him ruin your record with cheating?" Thomas frowned, jaw clenching. "Minho, that's a serious accusation! Janson would've done _anything_ to keep you from going to school if you let him."

"It would've been better than watching you agree to be his _bitch_!" He spat vehemently.

Thomas recoiled, horror-struck. His chest clenched in pain but rage washed over him in a wave. Newt was by Minho's side in an instant, holding the boy back for the second time that day. But unlike in the classroom, Minho didn't resist the blond's touch. He stood rooted in place, dark eyes clouded with a torrent of emotion; guilt the strongest one there.

"We have to report him." Newt suggested, his voice quiet as though he were worried about disturbing the uneasy peace between them. "What he's doing is illegal."

"We can tell the Dean." Thomas suggested weakly.

"Yeah? And then what? He's friends with the Dean you slintheads!" Minho dropped himself on top of Newt's bed, looking as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Face it guys, Rat Man's got us fucked. He has power over us. It doesn't matter what we do, he can get rid of us with no problem and keep Thomas for himself."

Newt joined him. He wrapped an arm around Minho's shoulders and leaned into the boy for comfort. Thomas stood off to the side, feeling awkward and out of place, though he wasn't sure why. He felt guilty for everything, like he was the worst piece of klunk to ever set foot in WCKD U. And he wondered, not for the first time nor the last, if things would have been better off had he remained back in their home town. He shouldn't have followed his friends out here.

His chest constricted. His face felt warm.

He released a shaky breath, physically blowing out the anxiety running rampant in his body and fought the urge to join them on the bed. He wanted to comfort them; wanted to apologize for all the trouble he'd cause them thanks to his stupid slip of the tongue, but…

He didn't.

He let them sit there in silence, too ashamed to do anything else.

* * *

Thomas woke up with a pounding behind his eyes that followed morning. His body yearned for him to go back to sleep as his night had been rough and plagued with nightmares, but Thomas had a mission to do today. He'd meant to do this a week ago, but the guilt of keeping his decision from his boyfriends kept him from going into the University's enrollment office. Now that Janson waited for him to sign the appropriate paperwork, Thomas felt he had no choice but to go through with his decision.

He knew Newt and Minho wouldn't appreciate it. They'd probably yell at him, call him slinthead or a shank. Hell, they might even disown him after this – at least he figured Minho would – but it was the only solution left on the table he knew for certain would work.

After all, no one could make him stay once the semester was over. Not even Janson and all his useless threats.

He sat in the enrollment office, leg bobbing up and down as he watched the secretary type away on her computer. The room was silent save for the loud clatter of keyboard keys and his skin pimped from the freezing cold. He wished he brought a coat, his sweater was doing nothing to keep him warm.

He glanced down at the sheets in his lap, all filled out as neatly as he could with his boyfriends' information for the next semester. The words "ROOM REGISTRATION/EXCHANGE" stared back at him in big, black letters. His leg bobbed faster.

It would only be for a semester. He'd come back in the fall once he was assigned to a new counselor and avoid Janson like the plague. His scholarships would still be there – he was sure they were renewable – but in the off chance he lost the opportunity he could easily replace it with another. His only regret was not telling his boyfriends. (And the idea of going back home alone for four months depressed him greatly.)

He waited in silence, gnawing the skin on his lip with his teeth. His leg bobbed erratically; his fingers tapping silently against the side of the chair. He was a nervous wreck. He half expected Janson to pop around the corner and whisk him away before any of the paperwork could get processed. It'd be hell to come back to the enrollment office again if Janson found out what he planned on doing. Dear God, he hated the man.

He jumped a mile when his cell phone vibrated. One glance told him it was Newt inquiring of his whereabouts.

He didn't respond.

At that moment, a woman opened the door to her office and gave Thomas a tender, polite smile.

"Thomas, hello. It's good to see you again. Please come in."

He heaved a heavy breath then followed her into the office.

* * *

 _Hey so we're going out to eat. Grab Min and I'll meet you guys at the café down the street. My treat. Don't fight me on this._

 _What's the occasion Tommy?_

 _Just wanted to celebrate_

 _Uh, okay, be there soon._

* * *

Thomas tapped his fingers against his phone, his leg bobbing up and down in nervous energy. He had already ordered food for his boyfriends', aware of what they liked in this place. He hoped it wasn't too suspicious, dragging them out spontaneously and ordering their favorite meals.

He bit his tongue.

Fuck, it was so suspicious. It was unmistakable he'd done something wrong, he should have invited them out to the movies or something!

The guilt he'd been trying to stave off since this morning came back to him at full throttle. He felt like an absolute ass for going ahead with his choice, and it didn't matter how many times he tried to convince himself that this was the only way, he knew he had done wrong. He didn't tell them. He didn't trust them enough to tell them he planned on withdrawing from school and was too much of a coward to tell them now.

He groaned, falling head first onto the table. He buried his hands into his hair, using his nails to scratch his scalp in a weak attempt at self-punishment.

 _I'm so fucked. I'm so fucked._

He pulled himself together before Newt and Minho spotted him. They joined him in their usual table at the same time the waitress brought their ordered meal. Minho peeled away his coat and scarf with the grace of an ecstatic child and slipped into the booth to claim his meal.

Newt slid into place beside him. He eyed the cheeseburger with a raised brow before glancing Thomas' way, one brow quirked in an arch.

"You already ordered."

Thomas smiled as innocently as he could. "Yeah, just thought I'd surprise you two. Because I love you."

Thomas tried not to kick himself.

Newt's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What's the occasion Tommy?"

"None. Is it a crime to want to spoil my partners?"

"No, but it is suspicious considering what happened yesterday."

Minho groaned obnoxiously. He elbowed the blond harshly and said, "Newt, just take it at face value. Tommy wants to spoil us, now let Tommy spoil us." He turned to Thomas with a languorous grin. "Consider me spoiled."

Thomas beamed.

"Fine." Newt sighed in defeat. He leaned back into the booth, a smile stretching his lips. "I'll let you spoil me today, but if there's something wrong, I want you to tell us."

"Okay," Thomas chuckled lightly. His palms felt sweaty. "That's fair."

Newt dived into his meal without another word.

Thomas picked at his French fries, his stomach sour.

* * *

Minho met up with Newt for another night of strolling later that evening. Thomas' had been true to his word and spoiled them rotten with dinner, desert and a quick movie at home until the poor boy fell into a fitful sleep before the movie's end. They tucked him into bed then took off for a walk despite the bitter bite of winter nipping at their noses. They continued around the dorm pathways, Newt's cold hand tucked into Minho's pocket, both boys mulling over today's events.

Newt heaved a heavy sigh, his breath bellowing out in a puff of mist; his cheeks and nose rosy red beneath the lamp lights.

"He did something stupid, didn't he?"

"Oh yeah, big time." Minho nodded. "So stupid that he needed to treat us to feel less guilty about it. I'm more surprised our night didn't end in sex. I would have pinned him down until he confessed."

"That's probably why it wasn't offered."

"Smart kid." Minho grinned.

Newt groaned. "I swear Minho, if the bloody idiot did what I think he did, I'm going to kill him."

Minho's jaw clenched, all humor from earlier drained from his face.

"If he did it because of Janson, I'm going to punch that asshole right in the nose."

"I won't hold you back."

Minho wrapped an arm around the blond's bulky frame and pulled him closer than their linked hands could.

"Let's hope Thomas isn't that stupid."

"He is, Min. He would and he probably already did."

"Can you at least try to act optimistic here? Like, is that too hard to ask right now?" He grumbled.

Newt chuckled weakly. "I'm not the optimistic one in the relationship, Min."

"Fine then I'll do it. I have complete faith Thomas didn't drop out of school or next semester because Rat Man is the world's biggest asshole with the world's biggest boner for our Tommy."

"You don't sound convinced."

"Yeah well, blind hope isn't my thing either. C'mon, let's go to sleep. We'll deal with it tomorrow."

They followed the path back to their housing complex, all thoughts of attending school without Thomas flooding their minds.

* * *

 _ **Thanks for reading!  
Any commentary?  
Please leave a review! They feed the muses =)**_


	24. Side Story IX: Down with the Sickness

_Unedited._

 _This side story was written before I reached the last three chapters of Tribulations so sorry for any inconsistencies that might crop up due to the time period. This side story is SUPPOSED to fall right after the last chapter and before the next chapter, hence why it's being uploaded now._

* * *

 ** _Side Story IX: Down with the Sickness_**

* * *

Thomas was starting to believe he had the worst immune system in the world. Newt was supposed to be the one who got sick more times than he can count, not him. Worse yet, to get sick a week before finals? It was just his luck. It was like his body had a vendetta against him this semester.

He already knew he was sick before he opened his eyes that morning. His dreams were plagued with nonsense and his body seemed to ache in a way that was beyond his muscular level. His throat didn't feel scratchy or dry, thank goodness, but his head felt hazy, like someone had turned on the blur function on a camera. He couldn't grasp the thoughts lurking in his head save for the most basic function. There was an ache behind his eyes that pulsed in time to his heart. It made him lethargic. Apathetic.

He was hungry. Exhausted.

He did not want to move for anything.

But making his boyfriends worry about his well-being was something he did not want to deal with.

Thomas forced his heavy limbs to rise. One glance at the clock told him he was up far beyond a time that was socially acceptable for him. Across the room, he gave a tender look to the softly breathing mound that was Newt's body, curled warmly beneath his sheets.

He could hear Minho's snoring just above him, the athlete not yet awake for his early morning run. Thomas struggled to move. His muscles screamed at him to go back to sleep with every step he took, his movements sluggish and unsteady. His chest felt constricted, like something were squeezing his lungs with every breath. It was uncomfortable, but Thomas was stubborn. He grabbed his bathroom necessities and dragged his half dead body to the showers.

* * *

Newt and Minho were already gone by the time he returned. He was grateful for the absence, the silence was music to his sensitive ears. He had struggled through the movements of cleaning himself and nearly panicked when the steam in the shower almost suffocated him. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and sleep away the sickness.

And perhaps he would. Minho wouldn't be back for another thirty minutes and Newt often took him out for breakfast afterwards. A quick nap seemed exactly what he needed.

Thomas collapsed into his bed like a sack of flour and disappeared into the void.

* * *

"T-my?"

Thomas groaned.

"—ommy…"

Something nudged him. Shook him lightly.

Thomas tried to swat away the nuisance but wasn't sure if his muscles responded. His arms felt like lead. His chest still tight.

"Hey Thomas."

His lids fluttered heavily. Newt sat beside him, a tender yet anxious gleam in his eyes. Minho grinned down at him as he leaned into the bunk, his expression impish. Yet, like Newt, there was a glimmer of concern behind those dark eyes, one had trouble masking.

"Must have been a nice dream. You wouldn't wake up for nothing." The athlete grinned. "C'mon shank, get up. We've got daylight to burn."

"We brought you breakfast." Newt held up a bag from the cafeteria, WCKD U's mascot smiling stupidly right back at him.

It was a struggle, but Thomas managed to pass off his uncoordinated movements to still being half-asleep. He certainly felt like he was. He wished the throbbing in his head would stop.

Newt fixed his breakfast on a paper plate – an egg sandwich with an apple on the side and a bottle of OJ, still chilled.

They watched him warily as he ate, his chewing slow as molasses and his movements about as graceful as a drunkard. Minho cracked a few jokes to lighten the tension, but Thomas didn't feel like he had the energy to laugh. He merely smiled and rolled his sore eyes.

He couldn't finish his sandwich or the apple.

Newt eyed the food with trepidation.

"That's all you're eating Tommy?"

He swallowed the piece in his mouth with a grimace. "Yes," He breathed.

Newt tossed out the remainder of his plate. "You're going to get hungry later."

"Then well grab something else." Minho replied. He tossed Thomas' coat and sweater his way, already bundled up and ready to go. "Get dressed shank. We're going to the mall."

" _Yay_ ," Thomas drawled.

The harmless glare Minho shot him made Thomas chuckle feebly.

* * *

He was uncomfortably hot underneath the layers of winter clothes. Newt had insisted he bundle up. The weather was unfavorable and bitterly cold, and although Thomas was grateful for Newt's hindsight, he hadn't factored his own sickness into the equation. He was burning up.

The mall was bustling with people doing their holiday shopping. The cacophony of noise assaulting Thomas' ears made his headache pulse unbearably. He felt exhausted despite the nap, his limbs trembling from the excess use. He was grateful for Newt's presence. If it weren't for him holding his hand and urging him forward, Thomas was certain he'd have collapsed before they even set foot in the complex.

"You're sick." Newt declared the moment they stopped at a gaming store. "And don't you bloody deny it, Tommy. You're sick and you should be resting."

"I'll be okay—"

Newt's scathing glare didn't seem so dangerous beneath the hot haze of sickness. In fact, it made Thomas laugh.

The boy's eyes narrowed. "See? You're laughing after my glare. You're sick!"

Thomas leaned into the blond's sturdy frame, the world suddenly spinning. Newt draped an arm around his waist for support. "Tommy, stay with me okay? I'll get you home soon enough. Minho!"

"I'll be okay," he murmured despite the weakness in his legs. A long shuddering breath escaped his chapped lips.

Why did everything feel like it was on fire?

"Minho! We have to go."

Newt's voice came out muffled and distorted like Thomas were somehow underwater, listening in on the boy's conversation. The chaos of noise cut away suddenly. He blinked. A loud, high pitched ring sounded in his ears, filling the mall and aggravating his headache.

Thomas watched Newt turn to him, his lips moving but no words escaping. The blond pulled away, quickly vanishing into the crowd inside the store. Thomas swayed on his feet.

He was hot. He was sore.

He was exhausted from the effort of moving and now he couldn't hear. He wished the floor would stop swaying. Wished his lungs would cooperate for once and actually let him breathe instead of the wheezy, tiny gulps of air he managed to suck in every once in a while.

But more importantly, Thomas wished he'd stayed in bed and slept away the sickness.

Darkness ate at the edges of his vision. Suddenly, Thomas felt light. There was a wind in his hair, an airy weight to his sluggish, heavy limbs. For one moment, he felt like he could fly. Until he realized… humans weren't meant to fly.

The crashing weight of reality smacking into his shoulder knocked him out before he could understand what happened.

* * *

He woke up to the sight of a white tiled ceiling and the rhythmic beat of a heart monitor by his ears. The humiliatingly disappointed groan escaped his lips before he could stop himself. He buried his face behind his hands, his arms still sore and his head still pounding, but at least he could hear again.

"You have to stop getting sick Tommy."

Thomas slowly dropped his hands and gave Minho an apologetic smile. The boy's own expression seemed weak in comparison.

"You keep giving us tachycardia." He joked.

Thomas sighed. "What was it this time?"

"They're still running tests." Newt replied, looking as exhausted as he sounded. "They're going to keep you here for observations."

"Great." He deadpanned. "I'm so sorry guys. I—"

They squeezed his hands, silencing him.

"We're just happy you're awake."

"You should have seen yourself," Newt continued. There was a tremble in his hands that didn't show. "You looked like the walking dead."

"Gee thanks."

They chuckled, their mood sobering.

"Seriously though," Minho frowned. "Stop hiding every time you get sick. If you feel bad, just tell us."

"I don't want you guys to worry."

"We're going to worry regardless. We might as well know _why_ we're worrying."

Thomas clutched their hands tightly. "I don't want to put you guys in the same situation we were before with Newt. That was horrifying. I don't want to ever have to go through that again, let alone make you both go through it."

Newt pressed his forehead against Thomas' temple, his breath warm against the boy's skin.

"Please just be forward with us, Tommy. Promise me that."

"I promise." He sighed. Newt pulled away with a reluctant smile.

"I brought us some cards." Minho fished into his sweater pockets and pulled out a pack of UNO cards. "Feeling up to it?"

He didn't, not really. His body begged him for more sleep, but Thomas was tired of missing out on moments like this. He flashed his boyfriends a genuine smile and released their hands.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading!  
More Thominewt goodies can be found at janrielworks on tumblr**


	25. Part XVII

_Unedited. Double update because this chapter is short.  
_

 _See end notes for commentary._

* * *

 ** _Part XVII  
_**

* * *

It was rare for Minho to find time for himself. His schedule usually had him bouncing between morning practice, classes, more practice and then more classes. Whatever available time he had, he lent to Newt and Thomas or as of recent weeks, studying for finals.

Janson's latest stunt cycled through his mind, along with Thomas' behavior.

A few days since their dinner, Minho saw a change in the brunet's demeanor. He stayed up late to help Newt with English and often times came to the dorm with dinner ready for them. He did their chores just so they wouldn't have to break their studying and quizzed them for hours on everything they'd learn. He worried himself to sickness, a fact that truly irritated both Minho and Newt – because Thomas didn't just catch a cold, he got _sick_ and he _hid_ his sickness, and although he bounced back fairly quickly, Minho and Newt weren't happy with having to take him to the ER just to get the boy to take some damn medication.

Newt had expressed his concerned, but Minho knew as intelligent as Thomas was, he was just as stubborn. The boy wasn't going to explain his ways no matter how much Newt persisted.

Minho knew. He understood why Thomas kept his secret. He even understood the reason behind it, of course he wouldn't want Newt to worry. Of course he wouldn't want to burden Minho with his issues. _Of course he'd do anything for their wellbeing_ – but Thomas was so stupid. He was so stubborn and impulsive, a shucking bloody genius hiding behind insecurities and chocolate doe eyes that _screamed love me forever and always_.

Thomas was an idiot and Minho loved the damn shank to a million pieces, but he wasn't going to let the boy do this alone, because like Thomas, Minho was just as impulsive and idiotic.

Minho wrapped his knuckles against Jorge's door, the older man jerking his way in surprise. He flashed Minho a pearly white smile and beckoned him to sit on the dilapidated chair in front of his desk. Minho closed the door behind him, the tale tell _click_ of the lock loud in the quiet office.

"Come Minho, sit, sit. I was just thinking about you, mijo."

"Great because I'm about to piss you off." The athlete grinned, his dimples deepening. He dropped an envelope onto Jorge's desk and laid back into his chair. He throw his hands behind his head without a care in the world.

Jorge's brows wrinkled. He plucked the letter from the white envelope cautiously, gave Minho a curious quirk of his eyebrow before reading the letter. He pulled back a few minutes later, his expression passive.

"So, you wish to drop out of the team?"

"Yep."

"You realize you'll lose your scholarship?"

"I know."

Jorge leaned closer, linking his fingers together. "Why are you doing this?"

Minho felt the rage burn beneath his skin, the memory of Janson's blackmail still raw in his mind. He schooled his face into stoniness, allowed his stone cold resolve to roll over him in waves. He caught the flicker of concern flash in Jorge's eyes and a part of him twinge with guilt from making the man worry about him.

He would miss Jorge come spring.

"I've decided WCKED U isn't the place for me." He shrugged. "It's too much work and I'm not about that life."

Jorge arched an eyebrow.

"You're one of the most hardworking people on the team, mijo. Is that really the excuse you've going to give me?"

"Whatever makes you hate me."

"I don't hate you. In fact, I'm worried."

"I know."

"Then explain to me what's going on."

Minho sat up straighter, his body numb yet his heart racing. He ran a hand through his hair nervously.

"Thomas is leaving because he thinks it'll be beneficial for all three of us. And I'm withdrawing because I don't want him to be alone next year. He's been hospitalized twice already because of his shitty personal maintenance. Staying here next semester knowing he's back home isn't something I want to deal with."

Jorge watched him for a moment, his expression hard to read. Minho didn't care what the man thought about his excuse, Thomas and Newt were the two most important people in his life right now. He would do what he thought was the right thing for both of them. Jorge's acceptance was not a requirement. (Though, it would have been nice.)

"Look coach, I don't care if you don't think my reasons are good, I just know that I'm not going to let Thomas be alone and have Newt worry himself sick about it."

Jorge raised his hands defensively. He fell back against his chair, swinging it side to side in contemplation.

"It's your choice, mijo." He said finally. "We do what we have to for those we love."

Minho felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders. He relaxed into the chair, his muscles already aching from tension he didn't know he had. He smiled lazily.

"Thanks Jorge."

His coach smirked. "Anytime Minho."

* * *

Newt watched Thomas' sluggish movements as his boyfriend collected his dirty laundry. Watching him, fresh from the hospital and hopped up on a cocktail of medication to fight off the recurrent illness brought Newt memories of the time he had spent weeks in the hospital waiting for the end, regardless if it meant life or death. Thomas' refusal to stay in bed despite the sleep that clung to his eyelids, made Newt chuckle. He had already tried to convince Thomas to rest, but the sleepy glare the boy gave him made Newt want to smother him from the overload of cuteness. (He would have too if he weren't so perturbed by Thomas' horrendous immune system.)

Two days lost waiting in the hospital; two days of studying gone thanks to blood tests, medication and three hours of arguing on the phone with the insurance company because they wouldn't, for whatever reason, cover for the boy's expenses. (It wasn't like Tommy could do anything about his shitty immune system!)

Newt didn't blame Thomas for wanting a little bit of normalcy. It seemed so hard to get as of late. And with Janson breathing down their necks, Newt didn't expect to find normalcy until the holidays – and that was being generous.

"The doctor said to take it easy, Tommy." Newt sighed.

Thomas stuffed another rolled up [air of sweats into his laundry bag with a huff.

"This is the only chance I'll get to do my laundry before we go home next week."

"We still have to take finals. You could do them then."

"I'm going to celebrate the end of a semester with you and Minho. Laundry is the last thing I'll do." The brunet grumbled, rubbing a dry eye.

Newt chortled. He understood Thomas' plight, especially since Minho had already expressed wanting to take them to a hotel before running home for the holidays. What time would Thomas get to do his laundry?

Newt leaned against the wall. He continued to watch Thomas' movement, dark eyes dozing off in thoughts of his own. Thomas never got the chance to explain why he took them out last week, and with the sudden onslaught of sickness and studying for finals, he didn't expect his boyfriend to _ever_ tell him what he'd done to feel so guilty. Not that he hadn't tried. He spent far too much time trying to get Thomas to talk, but to no avail.

A part of him felt he didn't need to ask. He suspected he knew the truth, he only wished he could have talked Thomas out of it.

"Hey Tommy?"

Thomas stilled. "Yeah?"

"I love you."

The brunet turned three shades of red. He ducked away from Newt's intense gaze and focused intently on separating colors from his whites.

"W-what's that for?" He mumbled.

Newt shrugged. "I just wanted you to know."

"Oh. I love you too." He turned to Newt then, his cheeks pink. "I'd kiss you but I'm germy."

Newt grinned. "I know. Stay over there. I don't fancy being hospitalized myself. I'm going to disinfect the room once you leave."

The brunet suddenly pouted. "I take it back. I don't love you at all."

"I'll live." The blond laughed. He barely dodged a rolled up sock thrown his way.

* * *

 _For those of you who don't understand how Minho knew Thomas withdrew from school without any evidence: it's because It's something Minho would do, had threatened to do if things with Janson got worse and therefore DID do. Thomas, like Minho, would do anything to make things easier for him and Newt, even if it came at a cost to himself. Minho, in this story, is the same way. Hope that clears up any confusion!_

 _My regrets regarding this series:_

 _1.) Never writing more about Jorge or Janson outside of their interactions with the boys._  
 _2.) Never getting a chance to explain Thomas' recurring illness._  
 _3.) Never getting a proper chance to poke at Thomas' allergies._

 _Someone asked me a few months back about Newt's illness and I do plan on writing that as a side story eventually. I haven't forgotten about it!_

 ** _Thanks for reading!  
For more Thominewt goodies, head on over to janrielworks on tumblr!_**


	26. Part XVIII

_;-; tears for the end._

 _As always, this chapter is unedited. I will return again to fix all my errors!_

* * *

 ** _Part XVIII  
_**

* * *

They were ready for their exams. Despite the sickness still lingering in his veins, and the medicine that kept him from keeling over a second time – even if it made him drowsy and listless for a good few hours – Thomas felt he, Newt and Minho were ready to finally take down Janson's stupid English Final. And once they were done, regardless if they still had left over exams, they were celebrating with the gang through movies, food, video games and probably – _definitely_ – booze.

It was the only thing that kept the three of them going the last few days.

* * *

Janson had them separated during their examination, not that it surprised them. He kept Thomas in the front row, blue eyes peering down at the boy as he worked. Minho sat in the far back with Gally while Newt had been positioned somewhere in the middle, away from them all but still within Janson's line of sight. Thomas made sure he didn't glance back during the examination. He didn't want to risk getting them into trouble just because he was curious about their well-being.

(How difficult it was to keep himself from checking. His leg bounced like a mad man during the silence, the only thing running through his head were worst case scenarios in which Janson could do whatever he pleased just to toss his boyfriends out of the room.)

Forty-five minutes later, Thomas was out the door. He ignored making eye contact with either of his boyfriends on his way out. Though, he did find the time to give Gally a smug smirk before dodging the boy's attempt in tripping him. (A part of him hoped Janson had seen, if only to get Gally into trouble, but another part hoped he hadn't. He wanted to embarrass the guy, not kick him out.)

He didn't breathe a sigh of relief until he was far enough away from the classroom and even then, his mind thought back to Newt and Minho.

"Thank god that's all over," Teresa sighed. She sunk into the lobby couch, her backpack slung lazily around her shoulder. Aris maneuvered their books around, making space for the rest of the gang that poured into the quiet lounge.

Minho collapsed next to Thomas, having finally escaped the last of his finals and proceeded to nuzzle his nose into the brunet's neck like a neglected puppy.

Newt stole the armchair from Gally with a cheeky grin, making the other blond roll his eyes.

"It could've been worse." Alby commented. He too stole another chair from Gally. (Said boy threw his hands up in the air, frustrated with their games.) "Pretty sure I bombed some of my finals."

"I'm sure you did okay." Harriet replied with a grin. "So who's ready for the after party tonight? After a stressful semester, I say we deserve a little relaxation."

"Only if you keep the booze to a minimum." Gally snorted.

Harriet rolled her eyes. "Booze is for those who can handle it. Personally, I don't mind getting a little drunk myself."

"I for one am definitely looking forward to it." Minho grinned, throwing an arm around Thomas. "I'm feeling really damn good about that shucking English Final."

"You better, I worked really hard tutoring yu two."

"Oh, speaking of which," Gally turned to Newt, brows raised. "Did you decide on that transfer yet?"

Thomas felt Minho freeze just as he registered Gally's words. They both turned to Newt, eyes wide in surprise.

"Transfer?" They echoed dumbly.

Gally's brows disappeared into his hairline.

Newt shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. He shrugged. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' of transferring." He muttered nonchalantly.

"To where?"

"Some place else. Haven't really decided yet."

"But…" Thomas began, wrapping his mind around the revelation. "WCKD U. is your dream school!"

"Yeah Newt, you busted your balls to get into this place."

"I did, but if people like Janson are going to make the people I care about miserable then it's not worth it." He frowned. "I'll find better places. WCKD University isn't the only school in the world, ya know."

"Very true," Alby interrupted. He rose to his feet with a hefty stretch. "So, about this after party…"

* * *

"You could have said something," Thomas said once they were out in the cold.

Newt leaned against the ramp railing, his breath misting beneath the neon lights of the club the gang had dragged them to. Thomas glanced back to Minho, the athlete sweaty from the humidity in the club, his cheeks flustered from a few drinks. He gave Thomas a curious stare, the older male not following Thomas' line of thought.

The music of the club thumped dully behind them, layers of concrete stifling most of the sound and leaving them in a deafening silence. Thomas licked his dry lips, exhausted from the day and parched from drinking.

He opened his mouth to continue when Newt's dark chuckle stopped him cold.

"Why should I have told you when you and Minho didn't tell me about dropping out?"

They both froze, Thomas' heart hammering.

"I – I planned on telling you –"

"When? When next semester started?" Newt shook his head, though Thomas could see the blond's features smooth out in resignation. "It's okay Tommy, honestly. I'm not really upset about it." He quickly frowned. "I am, however, annoyed you both decided to keep it from me."

"Newt -"

"Well it's not like you didn't see it coming." Minho interjected, rolling his eyes. "We literally had that conversation before Thomas got sick."

"There's a difference with talking about it than actually going out and doing it." Newt snapped, eyes sharp. "I didn't think you were serious."

Minho clicked his tongue. "You know me better than that Newt. I always keep my promises."

"What about your scholarships?" He questioned, eying them both with a mixture of concern and disappointment. "Do you both realize you've thrown your scholarships away?"

"It was only going to be temporary." Thomas confessed with a sigh. "My scholarship is renewable. I thought… if I just took a semester off that maybe… I could keep Janson away. I was going to come back." He wilted underneath their gaze, as though Newt's penetrating stare dropped heavy weights onto his shoulders. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Newt sighed. "I know you didn't, Tommy. Please stop thinking it's your fault." He pulled him into a hug, burying the boy's face into his chest as he peered over at Minho, who glared at the ground with obstinacy. "Since neither of you were coming back next semester, I decided to transfer. Somewhere far away from Janson but close enough to keep an eye on you two bloody knuckleheads."

Thomas held him tight, tipsy and emotional. He was so exhausted. All he wanted to do was go home, cuddle with his boyfriends and go to sleep.

Newt rubbed small circles into his back, the touch faint against his coat. "You know Tommy, I should be thanking you. When we were in high school, I had these crazy fantasies about how great going to WCKD University would be like. For some reason, I thought everything would be better if we just… went there together, y'know?" Minho snorted, though he didn't say a word. Newt chuckled. "There's a lot of shitty arses in WCKD U. huh?"

"Plenty," Minho muttered. "And Janson's the cream of the crop." He glanced at the duo still tight in their embrace with a small pout. "I'm over here freezing my shuck behind and you two are over there having a hugfest. Let me in on this action." He bolted from his place by the door and threw his arms around them, squeezing Thomas into the middle. "Oh yeah, this is way warmer."

"You're suffocating me." Thomas mumbled, his voice muffled by Newt's scarf. "Oh god, I can't breathe."

Minho and Newt hugged him tighter.

"You know, I'm getting tired of the club scene." Minho suddenly grinned. "What do you shanks say we leave the rest of the dorks behind and have fun just the three of us?"

"Sounds good to me." Newt snickered. "Although, I'd like to see the look on Harriet's face when she finds out you called her a "dork", Min."

"She's not going to find out if no one tells her. Come on!" He plucked Thomas away from Newt's warmth, ignoring the boy's yelp. "To the hotel room!" He threw an arm around Thomas' shoulder before planting an affectionate kiss on his temple. "You're such a worrywart."

Thomas grumbled, his cheeks rosy, though Minho couldn't tell if it was from the cold, the alcohol or in embarrassment.

Newt joined them on Minho's other side, an amused yet affectionate smile gracing his lips.

* * *

 _So Trials and Tribulations has finally concluded. There's still a few things I was asked to address during the story's run and I'll do them, but later. If there are any loose ends I didn't address, please let me know!_

 ** _As always, thank you for reading!_**


	27. Side Story VIII: Double the Trouble

_And here's some bonus content I wrote a while back for Tribulations. As you can see, I wrote these side stories out of order, hahaha._

 _This is what Minho had in mind when he wanted to celebrate just between the three of them._

 **Warning(s):** Explicit Sexual content, double penetration, unedited

* * *

 ** _Side Story VIII: Double the Trouble (NSFW)  
_**

* * *

Thomas stood, naked and warily eyeing the camera perched on the tripod, its red light blinking tauntingly. He clutched his right arm, blunt nails digging into his flesh.

"Are you sure we should be doing this?"

"Honestly? Probably not." Minho laughed.

He sprawled onto the bed, naked as the day he was born and surprisingly perky. His dick stood at attention, ready for the real fun to get rolling. Newt was the only one still partially dressed, his blue boxers an oddly comforting sight to Thomas. He fiddled with the camera, adjusting it until it was positioned to his liking. He peeked into it briefly before he pulled away, pale cheeks pink.

He heaved a heavy sigh then stripped off his boxers, his half-hardened member bobbing from the movement.

Thomas felt himself flush.

"You two look great," Newt complimented, stealing another peek from the camera. "Like a couple of shuck-faced greenies in their first amateur porn vid. How bloody wonderful."

"Good that," Minho grinned. "We'll make a great threesome." He patted the mattress, giving Thomas a sultry look. "Come over Thomas. I have a friend who really misses you."

"This is the stupidest idea ever." He laughed, a bit hysterically. Thomas crawled onto the mattress, his muscles tense and uncomfortable. "We're really going to fuck in front of a camera? What if someone finds it? How are we going to explain that?"

"It's for our memories, Tommy." The blond explained, though he scowled.

Thomas guessed he hadn't bought that excuse either.

Minho laid flat on his back, his arms folded behind his head. He seemed so comfortable and relaxed despite the ever daunting red light blinking away at them. Thomas felt envious. How could Minho not care what they were about to do?

"You two are being awfully shy." He teased. "You'll send me naughty texts but you won't do this one little thing for me? Terrible."

Thomas bristled. He positioned himself in between Minho's legs, his backside facing the camera. Minho's lecherous smile turned hopeful, the excitement sparkling in his dark eyes. It took Thomas a moment to regain his confidence. He stared down at Minho's pert length, pink and thick, his veins prominent against his skin. A bead of pre-cum oozed out of Minho's slit, the boy's excitement mounting. It shouldn't have surprised him, not with Minho's bad habits of sending them risqué text messages whenever he was home alone, but out of the three of them, it was obvious Minho seemed most into videotaping their actions.

Newt slipped behind him, large hands grasping his pale shoulders. His lips brushed along the shell of his ear, his breath hot against his skin.

"Just go with the flow." He murmured. He licked the length of the brunet's ear, his fingers trailing down his arms to his waist in slow sensual movements. Thomas shuddered from his touch.

Minho licked his lips.

Thomas started first.

He crawled up Minho's frame and captured the boy's full lips with his. Kissing was always the best way to get Thomas into the mood. There was something about molding his lips together with Newt or Minho that flipped a switch in his mind. It never failed to arouse him, even with the most innocent of kisses.

He let Minho dominate the kiss, the boy's wet tongue a happy invader. Newt's hands traveled along his body. Those calloused fingers caressed the sides of his waist then dipped down the length of his thighs and then up deliciously slow to the mounds of his ass. He squeezed him affectionately and chuckled when the brunet groaned into Minho's mouth.

Minho's warm hands snaked around Thomas' neck, pilling him deeper into their kiss.

Heat pooled into the pit of his stomach, and Thomas felt the blood rushing between his legs. He pulled away from Minho then, and made to move when Newt pulled him back; his back arched against the younger male. He snatched Thomas' chin and stole the boy's lips. Thomas' moan was music to their ears.

"Great," Minho managed, breathless. "You're in the mood now."

Thomas wanted to retort, but words turned to mush. He was far too entranced with Newt's tongue and the ticklish touches Minho traced along his hips for his brain to properly function. He worked on autopilot afterwards, driven by the single minded desire to pleasure his lovers.

His mouth engulfed the full length of Minho's dick, relishing the startled gasp that escaped the haughty boy's lips. At the same moment, Newt spread apart Thomas' cheeks, admiring the perk hole that begged for the blond's attention. He moaned around a mouthful of Minho as Newt's slick tongue licked his ring.

" _Fuck,_ that's hot." Minho groaned.

He threw his head back against the pillow, grasping the bed sheets in ecstasy. Thomas licked along the trail of his veins. He sucked the tip of Minho's head, dipping his tongue into the boy's slit to lap up the pre-cum oozing out in translucent pearls. Minho's breath came out heavy, his muscles slowly tensing.

Thomas had a hard time focusing on his task. Newt's expert tongue lapped his rim with impish delight. He licked circles along the puckered pinkness and slipped inside with relative ease. Thomas gasped at the intrusion, his low guttural groan sent vibration down Minho's throbbing dick.

"Okay, okay!" The older boy gasped. He ran a shaky hand through his sweaty hair. "Let's do this before I explode all over Tommy's face."

"Mmm, I'd like to see that." Newt hummed. He reached down to the ground for the bottle of lube.

Thomas held out his palm for a glob of the slick product, but Newt batted him away. Minho snickered at the boy's confused look.

"Oh no Tommy, you're not using this." He slathered a generous helping along his meaty length then tossed the bottle Minho, who readily poured a large glop onto his sweaty palm.

Thomas' heart quickened. He swallowed.

"Uh, y-you two aren't going to do what I think you're going to… right?"

Newt leaned into Thomas. He planted a tender kiss against the boy's flushed shoulder.

Minho grinned, sensing the blond's devilish delight. "Depends what you think we're gonna do." With one hand, he lathered his penis with the greasy glob, the other pulled Thomas into another kiss.

Newt took the boy's moment of distraction to slip a moistened finger into his hole. Thomas gasped into Minho's mouth, the familiar yet strange sensation stirring warmth within him. Newt's slick finger prepped him. He expertly lathered his walls, his opening and slipped a second finger inside to stretch him further. In truth, Thomas didn't need all that much preparation, but if Newt and Minho planned on taking him at once, he hoped Newt would be thorough. Even if he was used to both their lengths separately, having them shoved into him all at once was a different kind of stretch.

The blond's hot, throbbing thickness speared through Thomas unexpectedly. He tore away from Minho's dangerous lips with a high pitched groan, his body automatically arching in a downward curve. Minho took that moment to pull Newt's face into his, their kiss swollen lips feverish and desperate. Having Newt draw in closer to Minho pushed his hardness further inside Thomas, who gasped and whined pathetically at the intrusion. He felt his sphincter throb desperately around Newt's dick, torn between pushing it out and pulling it in.

The thought of Minho trying to slip inside sent a shiver of anxiety and anticipation down his spine.

They pulled away, flushed face and breathless. A string of saliva tore between their swollen lips.

"Hurry up and get him ready," Minho panted, his tone needy.

Newt chuckled. "You're so needy, Min."

Thomas whined in response, his thoughts too muddy to contribute. It made his lovers laugh.

"I'm not the only one."

Newt took his time with Thomas. His thrusts were agonizingly slow and rhythmic. In and out. In. Out. Any other day, this pace would have been perfect, but something inside Thomas urged the blond for more. He begged, even went so far as to reach out for his neglected member, but Newt snatched his hands away and allowed Minho to keep them restrained for the time being.

A few more agonizingly slow thrusts later, Newt pulled away with an embarrassing _pop_.

"Okay," he panted. "C'mon, easy does it."

He guided Thomas carefully over Minho and watched as the brunet slid down the older boy's eager dick with an erotic squelch. Minho hummed in appreciation, relishing the slick walls encasing his sensitive hardness.

They had never practiced this before. They usually took turns in their threesomes, though Minho often preferred to be the giver. Taking Thomas at the same time had been his idea, and yet, watching Newt tower over them as he carefully pressed into Thomas' overstuffed hole was enough to make Minho cum right then and there. They both looked so divine: Newt's brows furrowed and focused; Thomas' face scrunched into barely contained ecstasy and pain.

Thomas felt completely loaded with them inside. The burn was not too unpleasant. Newt's dick had always been on the thicker side of the spectrum, having him and Minho stretching his walls, filling him to the brim was an erotic experience. His own penis ached for relief.

When Newt moved, he nearly cried.

"Ah shit!" Minho hissed. "Shuck me…"

Newt groaned, his movements slow. He gripped tightly on Thomas' waist, blunt nails biting crescents into his flesh.

"Oh god!" Thomas gasped. He fell onto Minho's torso, his arms weak from the strain.

They moved in tandem; Newt pulled out, Minho pushed in. The rhythmic movements kept Thomas on edge. It didn't take long for them to pick up speed and soon, their room was filled with the erotic music of skin smacking skin and the moist squelches of lube. Among the chorus of noise was Thomas' high careening gasps.

He buried his nose into the crook of Minho's neck, crying and gasping into the boy's sweaty flesh. He drooled onto the pillow, his fingers desperately grasping for purchase. Newt's thrusts were building speed and strength, whilst Minho struggled to keep up. Thomas' weight against him restricted most of his movements.

"Oh god, please! _Please!_ " Thomas begged. "Minho! Newt!"

Obscenities poured from Minho's lips.

Newt's only commentary were his heavy labored breaths.

They lost rhythm in their desperate battle for release. They struck Thomas' prostrate in unison, making the younger male shriek so loud, Minho felt his ears ring. Thomas came with a burst across Minho's abs, the white spunk hearty and thick. They milked him until Thomas was twitching on top of Minho, his body sweaty and flushed, his dick too sensitive to touch. His walls tightening around them sent Newt into his climax. He poured his seed into the boy's ass just as Minho's orgasm slammed into him and together, Thomas could feel their loads invade his insides.

Newt pulled away first. He collapsed beside them, his chest heaving, body exhausted. Thomas rolled off a second later.

He grimaced. It still felt weird to have that much cum inside him.

"Shuck me," Minho breathed. "That was hot as hell. Did we get that on camera?"

Thomas and Newt stilled, their afterglow quickly dissipating.

Minho eyed them lazily, sensing their tension. "What's wrong?" He asked.

Newt was out bed before either of them could move.

"Newt, wait! Come on!" Minho cried. He flew after Newt, who had taken the camera and stormed out of the room. "Don't erase it! It's for our collection!"

"Not a bloody chance, Minho!"

Thomas curled onto his side, deliciously sore and utterly spent. He tried to focus on his lovers' petty quarrel, but his eye lids fluttered shut, too heavy to hold up any longer. The sound of their voices faded off into the background, darkness overwhelming him. He was dead asleep before they returned.

Thomas was pulled from his slumber by the feel of damp cloth brushing his sensitive sphincter. He jerked awake, nearly kicking Newt on the side and smacking Minho hard in the face.

"Ugh! Thomas!"

"Wha – _aahh!_ " He tensed. The lukewarm wash cloth brushed along his ring again, the burn unpleasant and painful.

Newt hushed him delicately, holding Thomas down by the back of his thigh. He swiped along Thomas' ass again, his fingers clutching tight as the boy twitched from the discomfort.

"I'm sorry Tommy." He sighed. "I should have noticed this sooner."

Minho grumbled. He pulled Thomas closer to him, smoothing down his bed head with affectionate caresses. His touch eased the panic that swelled within Thomas' chest, but his unease remained, clouding his confusion.

He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"You're allergic to the damn lube we used." The track star muttered, his voice rumbling in his chest. "Newt's cleanin' ya up."

"Oh… is that wh – _ah!_ " Thomas jerked again, the burn sharp and irritating.

He whimpered.

"Sorry," Newt murmured. He finally set the cloth aside and took his place behind Thomas. He curled into him, their naked bodies flush against the other. The burn still radiated from Thomas' backside, but the presence of both his lovers so close eased the discomfort Thomas felt. Minho and Newt pressed a kiss to his flesh: one on his temple, the other between his shoulder blades.

"You were so amazing, Thomas." Minho whispered against his hair. "So beautiful."

Heat pooled into his cheeks. Thomas buried his nose into Minho's chest, feeling embarrassed for more than his allergy.

"Shut up Min, you're embarrassing me."

"He's right Tommy," Newt chuckled. "The sounds you made were so erotic."

"Not you too!"

His lovers chuckled.

Newt draped an arm across them, his pale hand still hot and damp from the wash cloth. He rubbed small, delicate circles along Minho's hip, the athlete's tense body melting beneath his touch.

Thomas watched from the corner of his eye, contented with their position and sore from their previous activities.

"I never told you this but, you cum a lot for a shank who has issues holding an erection."

Newt's thumb stilled.

Thomas groaned.

Minho snickered. "What? Did I ruin the mood?"

"Shut up Minho." They chorused.

Minho's whole body rumbled with laughter.

* * *

 _I wanted to practice writing smut so I ended up writing this. Of course, I had to pick the hardest type which is sex with three characters, ugh.  
_

 _The extra bit at the end was added upon request. I think it wrapped up the whole story rather nicely!_

 **As always, thank you for reading!  
And THANK YOU for deciding to pick up this story and seeing it through.  
I really appreciate it =)  
**


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